The Introduction
by distressingdame
Summary: Lenora was just sleeping in front of her TV...Then how did she manage to wind up in Raoul's house 190 years in the past? Will the introduction of her into the Opera Populair be a sucess...Or a fatal mistake?
1. The Old de Chagny House

**Why, hello there! I feel extremely evil for not updating any of my other stories . But nothing has really come to me lately, besides this. I hope it flows, I do believe I've used too many adjectives :P In any case, here you go!  
Love,  
SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine  
AKA: Maura  
PS: If you can think of a better name for this story, please tell me. Thank you**

**_The Introduction_**

**Chapter One: The Old de Chagny House**

The day – or rather, afternoon – was dark, stormy, and lonely. No one else was home, and the creaky old house we were staying in was no good company. My parents were out gallivanting through the Louvre, and my brother, Beck, was out with some French girl he met at a café yesterday. So I was stuck inside this freakishly beautiful, 190-year-old McMansion my parents had bought as a summer home on the outskirts of Paris. The estate – because no way could I call this a house – was too lovely and too huge to be worth less than 11 million dollars. But I suppose that's what you get when the net worth of your mom alone is three billion.

This is why instead of settling into a comfy, worn recliner in front of a normally sized television, in a normal living room with a DVD, I attempted to get cozy in a chic leather couch before an obscenely large plasma-screen with a built-in Blu-Ray. I sighed as I opened the gallery of discs. I squeezed my eyes shut and picked one at random. When I felt the case in my hand, I opened my eyes. The 2004 movie version of The Phantom of the Opera.

I cocked my head and looked at the case. I had recently seen the play on Broadway. It had brilliant acting, but overall was a thought-provoking piece. The Phantom was an interesting character, and his tendencies were fascinating. Raoul wasn't as foppish as people made him out to be. I thought he was a great character, and Christine was just annoying. She was whiny, and two-timing. Why would she even do that to Erik? Also, should divine punishment have damned the Phantom to living alone, or should he have gotten Christine? I popped open the case and slid the disc into the player. As the haunting melodies of "Overture" came on, I grabbed a blanket from the heavy mahogany chest by the TV. I hunkered down on the couch to watch Phantom.

I can't remember at which part I became drowsy… Somewhere between "All I Ask Of You" and "The Point of No Return". I was dozing in no time.

I awoke on the couch. I blearily rubbed my eyes and realized it was only 2 PM. I had slept through most of the movie of course. I frowned as my eyes adjusted to the TV. The Phantom has his mask off….And I must say, it wasn't frightening at all. It just reminded me of a skin condition someone I knew had. As the movie ended, I snuggled back into the couch for a longer sleep. As I shrugged the blanked back onto my shoulders and drifted off to sleep, I could've sworn I heard a voice asking "What does she have on? Why is she here? Come, we must bring Viscomte!" I had thought it was my imagination…. Was I ever wrong.

* * *

"Viscomte! Raoul!"

I turned at the mention of my name and raised an eyebrow. A recently hired servant, Sylvia, was standing wide eyed and shocked in the doorway of my study.

"What is it Sylvie?"

"A woman appeared out of nowhere into the foyer! Her clothes! She's dressed as a man would be! Oh, Viscomte, come and see!" Young Sylvie was in a state of hysteria brought on by this apparition. I walked briskly down the steps and into the foyer.

I sucked in a sharp breath. There indeed was a woman in men's clothing passed out on my canapé.

"How did she get here?" I bent down and studied her face. Not quite a beauty, but pretty. Perfect bow lips, wavy brown hair, and a thin, heart-shaped face. I raised myself back up. She was wearing almost the clothes I was now, though they seemed to fit her well - a brown waistcoat, white shirt, dark brown trousers, and black boots.

"She appeared out of thin air sir! I swear it on my husband's grave!" An older maid, Cecile exclaimed, putting her hand to her chest. "Nearly gave me a heart attack, she did!"

"Well," I sighed, settling into an armchair, "All there is to do is to wait for her awakening."

* * *

I groaned and tossed in my sleep. I knew leather was uncomfortable to sleep on, but not THIS uncomfortable. I heard whispers around my sides with gasps of "She's finally waking!"

I snapped my lids open, only to see an unfamiliar pair of blue eyes meeting mine. I let out a shriek and scrambled off of the couch-like object I had been sleeping on.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?" I screamed at the unfamiliar man in front of me. I noticed a huddle of women in uniforms staring disgustedly at me in a huddle across the room. I took a moment to sweep the room with my eyes. It was indeed the same room I had been watching Phantom in a few hours before, but the furniture told me a different story. The woods were darker, richer, and the cloth was more elegant than anything the room I had seen before has ever had. I turned back to the man before me, only to see him looking curiously at me.

"My name is Viscomte Raoul de Chagny. I am the son of Count Philbert de Chagny, God rest his soul. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" The man's words tumbled off of his tongue with a soft accent that I couldn't quite place. But the name I knew all too well.

"De Chagny?" I squeaked. "Raoul? Good GOD this is NOT happening to me." I scrabbled up the couch to stand up on wobbly legs.

"Madame, please, tell me your name," Raoul frowned, holding out a hand to steady me. "Perhaps I could help find family of yours around here?"

"I am far, far away from any family of mine," I muttered, balancing myself on Raoul's arm. "My name is Lenora. Lenora Charmaine. I have no title. Now PLEASE inform me as to how I've gotten into your house."

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**Eh? Eh? You like? No? D; Oh well. Review please! :)**


	2. Welcome to the Opera Populair!

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of the character associated with it. I only own my character Lenora and the mayhem she wreaks on other characters' minds! :D

**Hello! I had a burst of inspiration...And so two chapters in two days. :D I'm so proud of myself. Now if only I could update the stories I've been neglecting for a year... T_T anyway, enjoy! (hopefully)  
Love,  
SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine  
AKA: Maura**

* * *

**_The Introduction_**

**Chapter 2: Welcome to the Opera Populair!  
**

* * *

Raoul scratched the back of his head. "I confess - I don't believe I've heard of you before. And I fear I can't inform you as to how you arrived here, because I have no idea myself!" He rubbed his chin and said, "But let one of my servants, Sylvie, get you into…" He paused, looking at my clothes. I looked down, seeing his disdain. No woman wore a man's clothes. "…Proper clothing and I shall take you to the Opera Populair. Can you sing or dance?"

"I can sing a bit. If I had lessons, the dancing would come too."

"Brilliant! Now, go with Sylvie. Some of my sisters' clothing should fit you." He motioned to a younger girl, who was, at an understatement, tiny.

"Follow me, Miss!" She squeaked, padding out of the room. I followed, and we stopped at a room so full of lace and frills I wanted to upchuck. "Let me take out the dresses…" She scampered to a closet bigger than my apartment in New York. When she brought out a pile of pink lace, only a few other colors mixed in, I groaned. Pink. Yay.

Quite a few dresses were either too fluffy or too big for me. The last one I was shown was, of course, perfect. It was also the only dress left in the pile. A light green silk bodice beaded with pearls sat atop an emerald skirt, not too puffy, but not too slinky. It wasn't altogether comfortable, but it was better and more me than the other dresses.

I walked out of the room and back into the foyer, I ahemed a little to let Viscomte Raoul know I was there. He turned around and, to put it quite simply, started gaping like a fish.

"Mademoiselle," He sputtered, smoothing his hair and clothes nervously. "You look beautiful," He finally managed to say, putting his hands on his hips.

I scowled. I really didn't need for him to fall in love with me, knowing this storyline. But deep inside me, I flushed with pride. "I'd much rather be wearing the clothes I was before," I stated honestly, fiddling with a tendril of my hair. "This dress is lovely, but isn't quite as comfortable as I'd like it to be."

I made a face as he shook his head whilst chuckling. "You certainly are something, Madame."

"Call me Lenora, or Nora, if you prefer. Madame makes me feel old." I muttered the last sentence under my breath, examining the mint colored fan Sylvie had given me. It truly was a work of art, made of silk and calico. I looked up as Raoul "hem"-ed. He held out his arm expectantly.

"The new management at the Opera will be waiting," he explained. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest.

"Lead the way, monsieur." I wasn't about to be led around like a pony. He shot a confused glance at me before opening the front entrance for me to walk out. I didn't wait for his help; instead, I hoisted myself into the body of the carriage without him. I could hear the maids tittering and giggling in the doorway as Raoul bemusedly closed the carriage door and walked up to the driver's seat. I settled back into the posh cushions of the cab's seats. This was going to be an interesting day, indeed.

When we clattered to a stop twenty or so minutes later, I burst out the door and almost ran into a trio of men I recognized as Firmin, André, and Lefèvre. Once Raoul jumped off the driver's perch, the three men converged upon him and me.

"Bonjour, Viscomte! My name is Monsieur Lefèvre," Lefèvre smiled, shaking de Chagny's hand heartily. "Would this be one of your sisters, then?" he asked, grinning good-naturedly down at me. "She sure is a lovely thing."

"Oh no sir," Raoul chuckled, "Merely a friend looking for a job. You wouldn't happen to have any openings, would you?"

"Well," Lefèvre mused, "That would be up to Madame Giry. We shall see her after introductions! Viscomte, these are the new managers, Richard Firmin and Gilles André. Gentlemen, this is Viscomte Raoul de Chagny, who is a main benefactor to this opera house."

This is when I stopped listening. Boring introductions were nothing to me, especially considering I already knew everyone here. I stared at the beauty of the Opera Populair. Good God, this place was an architectural wonder. The statues, the marble, the woodwork. I could stare at it for hours and not take enough in.

"Who designed this building?" I interrupted the conversation to look at Lefèvre in wonder.

Lefèvre blinked. "Why, Madame, I don't know. Why do you ask Miss…"

"Lenora Charmaine. And I ask because whoever made the plans and built this theatre was an architectural genius." I murmured, looking down and feeling stupid.

"They truly must have been. This is an angelic place!" Raoul exclaimed. "Now, can I check on what exactly my money is funding, good sirs?"

"Ah yes, yes of course, Monsieur!" Firmin smiled nervously. "Right this way, Vicomte."

"Please, call me Raoul." De Chagny said firmly, – hrm. Maybe I should call him de Chagny, just to put him off! - putting his arm out for me. Once again, I ignored it and walked behind the four men, dazzled at the inside of the opera house. If anything, it was more amazing than the outside, with a crystal chandelier, golden statues, and red velvet seats that shone like rubies. I hardly noticed when Raoul stopped, causing me to run straight into his back. I stepped back before I could stumble, giving him an excuse to help me.

We were on the stage, and Lefèvre stopped the practice – to the conductor's and Carlotta's annoyance – and started to explain that he was retiring. I looked around and spotted Christine Daaè and Meg Giry. Christine was eyeing me with jealousy and de Chagny with love. Carlotta sashayed her way up to Raoul and held out her hand for him to kiss. Soon enough, Raoul was moving off the stage and past Christine, I following some steps behind. Meg assured Christine that he hadn't seen her.

I stopped at the two girls and smiled. I was about 3 years older than them, 20 to their 17. Meg shyly smiled back, and Christine attempted to. I chuckled softly and said "Don't worry, Christine; I am not interested in de Chagny. By the way; after you get the lead in Hannibal, don't go to your Angel's lair. It will only cause problems." I winked at their shocked expressions and walked up to Madame Giry.

"Madame, are there any stagehand positions available?" I asked as she turned to face me in shock.

"Cheri, you are a woman. Surely you are not serious about being a stagehand!" She questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Unless you have an alto role, - which I highly doubt you do, there are already too many captives in this play – I would like to become a stagehand."

Giry narrowed her eyes at me, circling and studying me. "You are lean enough. And you are correct, I have no more alto roles open." She paused for a moment before me, leaning on her walking stick. "Have you any objections to wearing men's clothes, Miss?"

"None whatsoever, Madame."

"You're hired," She said smoothly. "No objections to staying in a room with a dancer, I hope." She didn't give me time to answer before barking "GOOD. Meg, come here." Meg danced over, looking at me with questions and a decided amount of fear in her eyes. "Miss…."

"Lenora Charmaine. Nora, if you please."

"Miss Charmaine. This is my daughter, Meg. Meg, you will be sharing a room with Madame Charmaine until a room frees itself up for her use," Giry boomed, looking at Meg, demand in her eyes.

Meg nodded meekly, dancing back off into her place, right before an ungodly sound met my ears.

"I QUIT!" a woman screeched, her voice reaching so high I saw a dog run out of the theatre in fear.

"Hopefully for good," Madame Giry muttered, leaning on her walking stick. She glanced back at me and smirked.

"Welcome to the Opera Populair."

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**Once again, you like? :) Review to let me knowwww! :D  
PS: I know I made Mdme. Giry a little mean. I combined what I knew of her in the stageshow, book, and movie for her. Sorry if it disappoints you :P**

**Click the middle button. You know you want to.**


	3. Enter Phantom, Stage Right

**Thank you That crazy girl with glasses for reviewing :D I love you. And three chapters in two days. Why, you ask? Because I can. :D I have nothing else to do with my life. Oh well. Enjoy, hopefully!  
Love,  
SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine  
AKA: Maura  
PS: it seems the title for this isn't as bad as I thought. Hm. Still, help me think of a new one? pleeeeaaassse? thank you(:**

* * *

**_The Introduction_**

**Chapter Three: Enter Phantom, Upstage Right**

* * *

I shook my head to clear the sound of La Carlotta's terrible singing. I was now in suitably comfortable clothes, – AKA, men's clothing - and up in the rafters of the Opera, manning one of the stage's many backdrops. After being introduced to Joseph Buquet, I wanted to gag. What a sleaze ball. I shuddered at the memory of his leer at me. I looked around. Any moment now, the Phantom would be coming out to drop the screen on Carlotta. I smirked as I saw a flash of white near Buquet's post. A second after, the set piece dropped, causing Carlotta to shriek, more in surprise than agony.

As Buquet ran back to his post, the Phantom ran towards me. I was transfixed; he moved like a jungle cat. I was pretty sure he saw me, for he made a point to conceal the white of his mask and face with the black of his cloak after a few moments. A few heartbeats passed, and I could no longer see his stealthy movement upon the wooden planks of the bridges between posts.

Buquet explained to Firmin and André how he wasn't at his post. I rolled my eyes. He was out groping a dancer, no doubt.

"He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!" Meg exclaimed, looking up towards the rafters.

"Good heavens, certainly you cannot believe such wives tales!" Firmin scolded Meg, looking at Madame Giry's daughter in distaste.

"Signora, these things do happen!" André pleaded with the diva, all but on his knees, begging her to stay.

"For three years, teez tings do 'appen. Until teez things stop 'appening, TIS ting," she pointed to herself angrily, "Does not 'appen! Ubaldo! Get my baggie and poochie. BYEBYE." Carlotta said all these words in one breath while storming offstage with her ridiculously fat handmaiden and way too skinny manservant.

Piangi followed shortly after, muttering "Amateurs" at Firmin and André in his thick Italian accent.

"Well," Lefèvre turned, and clapped his hands together as he was facing Messieurs Firmin and André. He offered the fellows a smile. "I don't think there's much more to assist you, gentlemen. Good luck. If you need me, I shall be in Australia."

I giggled at the new owners' faces. Identical looks of shock and horror appeared on them.

"La Carlotta will be back!" André stated shakily, raising his fist in the air.

"You think so, messieurs? I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost." Everyone turned to face Madame Giry at the same time. It was frightening, actually, how quickly heads could turn 180 degrees.

"God in Heaven, you're all obsessed!" Firmin scoffed, but he inched closer to the dance instructor. "What does it say?"

Giry pulled a piece of parchment from inside her cloak. I switched places on the creaky wooden boards as to get a better view of this. "He merely welcomes you to his opera house and commands you to continue to leave Box Five," she pointed to the elevated seats closest to the stage with her cane, and promptly slamming the stick on the floor for emphasis, "Empty for his use, and reminds you that his salary is due."

"His opera house?" André roared at the same time Firmin shouted hoarsely "His salary?"

Giry smirked at André as she replied to Firmin. "Monsieur Lefèvre paid him twenty thousand francs a month. Perhaps you can afford more, what with your success in the…junk…business."

"Scrap metal," André replied through his teeth. "And this is a load of rubbish. Is there an understudy for tonight, Madame?"

"There is no understudy," Reyer, the conductor tittered shakily, "The production is new, messieurs."

"Christine Daaé could sing it, monsieur." Madame Giry spoke smoothly, even charmingly.

"A chorus girl? How absurd!" I scowled. André was really starting to annoy me.

"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher," Giry coaxed, her face flattering.

Firmin turned to Christine after some blustering. "What is your teacher's name, child?"

Christine blushed, bowed her head, and ran a hand through her hair as she muttered, "I don't know his name, monsieur."

Madame Giry breezed over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Let her sing for you, messieurs. She has been well taught."

A pregnant silence settled over the stage. I couldn't see anyone's faces anymore, so I moved to the farthest right lift to get a view.

Reyer broke the silence. He cleared his throat, signaled the orchestra, and then spoke to Christine. "From the top of the aria then, mam'selle."

Christine moved slowly forward, obviously nervous, and started to sing. "Think of me…Think of me fondly…"

I blinked. Her singing was even better in real life than the movie, or even the stage show. I leaned over the ropes, trying to get a better view of everyone's faces. I felt the weight beneath me shift. Looking over, I realized one of the ropes connecting the platform to the ceiling was fraying to a single string. I muffled my screech and scrambled over the other side, only to get my foot caught. I fell, and grabbed for a hand hold on the boards. The planks were too tight together! _Of course_, I thought wryly, past my horror, _I would choose the best platform for standing and the worst for holding onto._

I was still clawing at the boards, hoping to find some relief from my struggle. But no, it seemed I was going to fall to my most imminent death on top of a group of dancers in the wings. I took a deep breath, ready to scream bloody murder as I fell, when a pair of hands grabbed my wrists and hoisted me upwards. It felt like the person holding me was going to rip my arms out of my sockets, but I let out a huge, shaking breath, knowing I was going to stay alive. The hands set me down on the solid floor near the staircase to the roof. I collapsed, and waited a few moments to put myself right again. I brushed myself off, and checked for damage control. No injuries. Hm. First near-death experience of my life thus far.

"Sir, how can I ever…" I trailed off as I looked at the man who had hoisted me up. "Thank you," I breathed, transfixed by his eyes.

The Phantom of the Opera had just saved my life.

Gerard Butler, the man who played the Phantom in the 2004 movie, was hot. Imagine that five times over. Yeah. That's exactly how handsome this Phantom was.

"Who are you?" He hissed, stepping closer to me. "And how do you know I tutor Christine Daaé?" He examined me, and added with a small amount of wonder in his angry voice, "And why are you, a woman, manning the sets?"

Ooooh. That's why he saved me. My look of awe turned into a calculating glare. "That is incredibly sexist of you. Why can't a woman be a stagehand? And who I am is of no consequence to you, Monsieur Erik." I smirked at the shocked look on his face. "Or do you prefer Phantom of the Opera? Opera Ghost? Maybe…Angel of Music?"

"You…You witch!" He seethed, grabbing my arm. "How do you know my name?"

Okay Nora, you're not going to lie to this man. This murdering man. This murdering man who is hot. This hot murdering man who has a creepy obsession with Christine Daaé. I need to stop thinking and say something before he kills me.

"I can see the future."

Okay, maybe I lied a little.

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**Anyone like? :D Review if you do, review if you don't! I need criticism to surviveeee! ;D**


	4. Truth is Your Downfall

**Helloooooo. Thank you, whoever's stopping to read this. It's much appreciated :) My Traffic button is confirming people at least LOOK at this story...So why only one review? D; it saddens me. Anyway, thank you for looking/reading, and hopefully enjoy! :D  
Love,  
SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine  
AKA: Maura**

* * *

_**The Introduction**_

******Chapter Four: Truth is Your Downfall**

* * *

The Phantom blinked at me, and the half of his face that wasn't covered in a mask lifted in a smirk.

"You…can see the future. A girl of about twenty years - so young she can't even be called a woman yet - can tell my fate," he mocked, circling me slowly.

"You say I can't be called a woman, be reflect on what you said but a moment ago." I eyed him. He was a good head taller than me and was obviously very strong, which would make it difficult to defend myself, if need be. "And how else would I know your name? Not even Antoinette Giry, the woman who saved you from your life in a freak show knows your true name, Erik."

He slapped me, sending me reeling into the railing, knocking the air out of me with an unattractive noise. He then grabbed my arm, twisted me around, and pulled my face close to his. For a second, I almost thought he would kiss me. Until, of course, he hissed, "How did you learn about this? How do you know about my horrid past? Tell me the truth this time, wretch!"

"I. Don't. Lie." _And I'm not a wretch! _I thought indignantly, scowling.

The truth in my words seemed to anger him even more, and he pulled out his trusty Punjab lasso. I quickly put my hand at the level of my eyes - as I remember Madame Giry saying more than once in the play and movie – and right before he shot the rope around my neck, my arm was there. He growled, "Tell me what else you know, or even Giry's tricks to survive won't help you."

"Are you quite positive you want to know all I do?" The Phantom glared at me and tightened the lasso. "You could've just said yes," I muttered. I took a deep breath, and started to reveal my vast knowledge. "I know your mother sent you to the freak show when you were young. I know you're a genius. I know how much you want someone to love you." He stiffened at that last sentence. I continued, seeing how he didn't try to kill me, "I know you're disfigured behind that mask. I know you wear a wig, and that your hair is actually blonde. I know what you look like behind the mask and the wig. I know it's not as terrible as you think it is. I know you're obsessed with Christine Daaé, and I know that I should tell you she will not love you if you pursue her. She doesn't love you as more than her father's messenger." My voice had dropped to a whisper at the last sentences. "Christine would never think of you as a lover," I whispered, afraid this sentence would be my last, "Because she is not as hardened by the world as you are and doesn't understand how much you've been through, and how heavy the weight is that you carry on your shoulders."

I closed my eyes, bracing for the black of death and the tightening of a rope around my neck. After a few moments without any pain, I cracked open an eye. The Phantom was still there, and his lasso was still around my neck and arm. He wasn't looking at me, though. He was looking at the ground, and the droplets of water falling off of his nose and onto it. Christine had finished singing, and everyone on the stage was crowded around her. She blushed at the praise from her peers, and glowed with acceptance. I slipped the lasso off of my head quietly, hoping he wouldn't notice. When he didn't, I reached forward to comfort him. My hand hesitated, wondering if this was the best idea more than once. I finally let it rest on his shoulder, feeling it heave with sobbing. I contemplated what to say to him for a few moments, before settling on a saying his name. I couldn't go wrong with that, could I?

"Erik…"

I was cut off by a backhand so strong and so surprising it sent me flying into the wall a few feet away. I took a ragged breath and clutched my cheek as the Phantom whisper-yelled, "Don't call me by that name!"

Of course I could go wrong with calling him by his name.

"Well, which name would you rather I use?" I gasped out. "The name which pins you as a monster and a murderer? The name which calls you an extortionist? Or the name of a man who is worshipped as a false idol and plans on abusing his tutoring relationship with a younger girl?"

"Ten years!" He moaned, staring out, down, and across the stage at Christine's figure, still crying, the tears streaming, warm and angry down his face. "Ten years waiting for Christine. Ten years spent, waiting for her to love me as more than her protector and teacher, and _you_," He grabbed my throat with one of his gloved hands, slamming my head against the wall. "_You_ ruin it all in a few sentences!" He squeezed his hand tighter, and I felt less and less air coming through my trachea and more and more wrinkled leather tattooing itself to my neck. Tunnel vision overcame me, and, soon after, the world became a blurry mess of colors.

"Good Lord!" Someone shouted. People started to scream and screech and scramble around the stage loudly as the Phantom turned around. Someone had noticed I was dying in the rafters. _Finally_, I thought, my mouth opening and closing like a fish, attempting to get some air into my burning lungs.

"This isn't over," were the last hissed words I heard before the pressure of his hand at my neck dissipated and I crumpled to the floor in a heap, taking in ragged breaths of sweet, clean oxygen.

"Lenora! Mademoiselle Charmaine! Nora!"

I started blearily at the sound of my name. _Awwwwhhh_, I thought fuzzily, growing warm inside, _someone knows who I am! I'm really making a name for myself here…_

Voices and footsteps grew louder and louder until a group of people were surrounding me, murmuring nervously, shouting, and examining me. Someone propped my head up to look at the bruises and red hand-shaped marks I was sure were on my face and neck. I tried desperately to move my arms and legs, attempting to prop myself upright, but my muscles failed me and I grunted and slumped back down, exhausted with the effort.

"Lenora." Raoul's face was right before mine, and I was looking directly into his blueberry eyes. _Hmmmm,_ I vaguely thought, _Raoul's pretty! Heehee, A pretty man! _"Nora, say something!"

I smiled lopsidedly and managed to say, "That Phantom character sure is an interesting fellow. I should like to meet him again."

And then I passed out into someone's strong, warm arms.

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	5. Awakened and Confused

**Hello there! I love my two reviewers and one story alerter with all my heart 3 :D  
****Awesome****: House references FTW! And she was in a mini coma from loss of oxygen at one part, and in a minor state of shock in another. But if she was normal, I daresay Nora would've blushed! Hehe now where are my bonus cookie points? ;D  
****AcheronNyx:**** thank you kindly! (:****  
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**In other news, this is a really long chapter. Almost two THOUSAND words. I'm so proud of myself :D**

**Read, Review, and Enjoy! :)**

**Love,  
SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine  
AKA: Maura**_**The Introduction**_

* * *

**_The Introduction_**

**Chapter Five: Awakened and Confused**

* * *

There was a terrible pounding in my head. The more I tried to push it out of my head, the stronger it became. I groaned and turned on my side, feeling pillows, blankets, and sheets shift beneath me. Much better. I smiled, until I realized my throat was tight. Too tight. I frowned and moved so I was laying on my back. I touched my throat lightly with one hand. What was wrong with it?

The events of last night came back to me in a flood, and the pounding in my head, which had receded, came back as fast and hard as a freight train. _Ugh._

"Nora…." A sing-song voice chirped, close to my face. I felt warm breath on my face and squirmed. I longed to push the person out of my personal bubble. "Are you waking up, Nora?" The person attached to the voice moved slightly away from wherever I was laying. "Monsieur, mama! I believe she's coming to!"

A different person scurried up and sat on the side of whatever I was laying on, shifting the weight to one side. "Nora, chéri. You need to wake up, child." I vaguely recognized the voice. A hand was on my face, caressing it. "Cher, you need to wake."

A new pair of footsteps entered the room. "Nora? Is she awake?" _Raoul?_ I thought, cracking open an eyelid. I immediately regretted it.

"Too bright!" I hissed, grabbing for a pillow and jamming it onto my face. "Too damn _bright_!"

Someone chuckled, and the weight on the side of whatever I was on disappeared. I heard rustling on the other side of the room. Someone pranced back over to the side of my resting place.

"Nora, I closed the curtains. Open your eyes, mam'selle!"

I reluctantly did as I was told. I blinked a few times. All I saw was a smudge of color, and then my vision cleared. Meg and Madame Giry were hovering over me, and a look over revealed Raoul was pacing in a corner of the room. He realized I was awake and bustled over to what I realized was a bed.

"Feeling better, Sleeping Beauty?" Meg smiled warmly, putting a platter of food on a table beside the bed.

"Well," I started drily, rubbing my sore cheek. Make that both cheeks. I winced; there was definite bruising on both of them. Maybe even a black eye for lucky me. "After almost dying at the hand of a 'ghost'," I laced the word with as much sarcasm as I could muster, "Who has an incredibly strong grip, let me tell you – I believe I'm doing quite well, Meg." I pushed myself upright to a sitting position, and continued rubbing my sore face and neck.

"Well enough to be sarcastic," Madame Giry noted drily, slamming her stick on the floor. That thing looked like it packed a punch. How good can the structural integrity of this theatre be, when she's rampaging around, slamming that cane willy-nilly? "After you've finished that," she nodded to the platter of food Meg had brought – which looked rather delicious, if I say so myself - , "Get changed and get to your post." I opened my mouth to protest, but she fixed me with a glare. "You want a paycheck, you work. Near-death experiences are old hat for a stage hands," she sniffed, daring me to contradict her.

I rolled my eyes and shoved a croissant in my mouth to keep from talking back to my boss. I chewed. Hm. Pretty great food. Madame Giry walked out, calling over her shoulder, "See you soon, chéri."

I started picking at a mystery food as Meg started talking. "I have to get to practice, Nora. I hope you feel better soon! See you in a few moments, cher!" I smiled as Meg walked out. She was a nice girl. I hope she wouldn't miss me too much when I give myself to the Phantom for Christine's freedom to be with Raoul.

"Ahem."

I turned my head, and realized Raoul was still in the room. A look of anxiety was upon his face, and I inwardly sighed. _Here we go,_ I thought, cursing the Phantom. _A lecture from a man I've known a day._

He took a few tentative steps forward. I cocked an eyebrow. Thus far, he had taken approximately ten times as long to reach me than normal steps would have.

"Are you ever going to speak, de Chagny?" I smirked, chomping down on another croissant. The mystery meat was too unsafe for my tastes; I didn't know how this cook made their meat! It might not be cooked all the way! _Salmonella! _

Raoul cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, shifting his weight from side to side nervously.

"I just wanted to say I'm glad you're alright."

For some reason, these words hit me like a load of bricks. I stared at him, not quite comprehending what he said. A flush slowly made its way up Raoul's face, and his small smile faltered a tad.

"What?" He asked, taking another step towards me. "Is there something on my face?"

"No," I murmured, smiling down at my hands. "Just honesty." I turned my face up at him just in time to see a confused look shoot across his face, and his light flush deepen a bit.

"W-well, I am glad you're alive, of course - why would I want you dead? – and I daresay the Phantom won't show his face for a while, and, and, and, the weather's lovely this time of year, isn't it?" Raoul finished his stuttering rant lamely, leaning on one of the bedposts.

I rolled my eyes at his antics and jumped off of the comfort of the bed. "Shoo, de Chagny. I have to change. Unless you _want_ to see me naked…" I dropped off the sentence there and let a vague smirk appear on my face.

At this, his blush turned burgundy and he stammered for a bit before rushing out of the room.

I smiled as the door slammed shut behind him. Raoul was a nice man. He was handsome, too…. I shook my head of any thought of that. _Raoul and Christine get together,_ I said to myself firmly. _No getting in the way of their love._

_But,_ I thought, biting my finger and smiling at the door de Chagny just left through, _it couldn't hurt to flirt a bit._

I quickly swapped clothes and wiped all thoughts of Raoul – DE CHAGNY, Nora, DE CHAGNY! – from my head as I sprinted over to the stage, my hair whipping behind me and slapping me in the face as I ran. I quietly cursed as I grabbed a hat off of a costume table and shoved my hair into it, someone yelling at me to put it back. I dashed up the steps, leaped over ropes, did a few backflips, and walked precariously on a rope to land at my post quietly just as practice started. I smirked to myself and hoisted up a set piece. I loved being in shape and flexible.

"You should've been a dancer," a quiet, approving voice behind me stated.

I turned around, my hand to my heart, only to see the Phantom there. I breathed out and turned back to my work.

"Don't scare me like that!" I said irritably, securing the set with a knot. I turned back around to face him, and he was closer than before. I could see the confused look on his face for a second, but was soon smoothed over to a blank mask of no emotion.

"You're not afraid I'll kill you, right now?" He asked, voice as smooth as silk. "It would be easy, you know." He stepped forward, almost touching me. I was backed against the rope railing on the creaky platform already, and staring up into his cut-and-polished-emerald eyes did nothing for my balance. "Just to push you over…" His hand reached up and caressed my shoulder. I closed my eyes and lifted my chin, half out of fear and half out of bliss at his touch. "So…Very…Easy…" he whispered into my ear, touching my other shoulder with his free hand, skimming his hand over it. I breathed in sharply, suddenly very aware of his face's proximity to mine. A few heartbeats more and I would give in to his soft, warm touch…

"Leave me to my job, Erik," I said, pushing his chest hard, and sending him backwards a few steps out of surprise. "Or kill me now."

The shocked look left his face as soon as it had appeared. "As much as I would love to," the Phantom smirked, sauntering up and grabbing my face in his hand, "I can't now. You seem to know everything about me, and for that, I can't let you out of my sight." He tilted my head to a different angle and smirked. I narrowed my eyes at him and he chuckled darkly. "Very sorry, mademoiselle." He let go of my face and traipsed over three other platforms before turning back - his face a glowing white as his mask and his eyes pits of darkness in the lighting – and saying huskily, "But I'm not very sorry at all."

I shuddered at his words, and in the moment I had looked down, he had disappeared. I looked confusedly around me, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Glancing at the stage, I scampered over to another platform to lower a set; contemplating what the Phantom could've meant by saying he wasn't sorry at all.

After a few hours of zoning in and out of my surroundings, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I swiveled around tensely, ready for another Phantom encounter, when I saw Meg and Christine.

"Feeling better, chéri?" Meg asked brightly, while Christine smiled tentatively at me.

"A little," I admitted, loosening up and smiling wryly at them. "Is practice really over?"

"Yes it is!" Meg cheered and did a little twirl as I took the hat off of my head, shaking my hair out. "How time flies when you're having fun! And now, time for a sleepover!" She grinned at me and turned to ask, "Right Christine?"

She smiled softly and nodded, looking at Meg and I. "In my room. It's the biggest, and it's the closest to the kitchen!"

I smiled, and set off with the two dancers, chatting and laughing with them. I hadn't had friends like this since freshman year of high school…And I missed it.

Maybe living in 1870 wasn't so bad after all.


	6. A Letter and A Language

**Why hellooo! :D I waited a whole two days to update this...Yeah. I'm a cool cat. (Pssshhh yeah right) ANYWAY, I hope you like it :) I tried to make it feel more like Nora was from the 21st century in this...in the other chapters - to me at least - it kinda felt like she was from 19th century France. Well, I hope you enjoy.**

**Awesome again: It's never lupus. Just like I just assume all patients lie. And I'm pretty sure she was more like "ohmygod the Phantom of the opera is in my breathing space...ohmigod he's touching me. ohmigod...wait, didnt this guy try to kill me yesterday?" Yay cookie points! *nommm* And thank youu! Will i get killed if i jump off of a building, tryin to fly with my imaginary epic wings? :P**

**Read, Review, and Enjoy! :)**

**Love, **

**SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine  
AKA: Maura**

* * *

**_The Introduction_**

******Chapter Six: A Letter and A Language**

The sleepover was in full swing, and Christine and Meg were guffawing and holding their sides – acting much unlike the "ladies" they are – at my impressions of our friends in the opera house.

I flipped my hair up and rolled it into a ball at the base of my neck and started slamming an imaginary stick on the ground. I closed one eye and glared at Meg and Christine with the other, all while shouting, "Pick up those feet! Stop whining about broken bones! They're old hat for dancers! And a-one, two, three!"

"You sound," Meg gasped, clutching her stomach, "_Exactament_ like my mother!"

I smiled and flopped onto a chair in Christine's room. It was surprisingly well furnished. "That's what I was aiming for!" I frowned as a random migraine appeared at the front of my skull. I sighed and rubbed my forehead as someone knocked at the door.

"I'll get it!" I heard Christine sing, and I listened to her bare feet pad over to the door. I tilted my head and looked at the ceiling. A formation of dots looked a lot like a deformed rabbit… I pointed this out to Meg and she giggled, deciding to name it Non Belle.

Christine called something out into the hallway, but Meg and I were too busy trying to decide whether or not N. B. had fangs.

"Meg! Nora!"

Both of us rocketed into sitting positions to face a paper-white Christine holding an envelope in one hand and a red rose in the other.

I shot across the room to stand beside her as she started breathing shallowly and quickly. I walked her over to her bed and made her sit. She was grasping the rose so tightly her knuckles were almost sticking out of her skin, and a few lines of red ran down her wrist. I pried the almost-bloomed bud out of her shaking hand and looked at her palm. Sure enough, there were shallow, profusely bleeding cuts where the thorns had pierced her. Christine dropped the envelope like it was made of fire as soon as she realized she was still holding it.

"Meg," I said sharply, looking over to the blonde, who was as white as her friend I was kneeling next to. "Take her to your mother, and have her clean and bandage Christine's hand." Meg nodded and murmured something to Christine, helping her up and walking her out the door as I picked up the opened envelope Christine had dropped on the covers.

The front of the envelope was empty save for the words "_**To a singular Mademoiselle**_" written on it in fancy script. I flipped it over and stiffened, seeing a blood red wax seal in the shape of a realistic skull. I rubbed my finger over the skull, feeling that it was still slightly mushy. The letter had been written and sealed not too long ago. Pieces of the envelope were stuck to the back of the seal, as it had already been opened. I hesitantly took the parchment out of the packaging, biting my lip. Christine wasn't extremely faint of heart – what could this letter have said? I took a deep breath and – bracing for the worst – opened the folded paper.

_**My dearest Lenora Charmaine, **_It read,

_**I am writing to inform you that I will be watching every move you make from now on, as I mentioned to you in our encounter earlier today. If I see something I should not due to you thinking you are private behind a closed door, it is not my fault now, seeing as I am warning you I will see everything going on in your life. If you aren't in the mood to be watched shedding clothes, put up a curtain and change behind there. I'll be tracing every step and seeing every interaction that you make.**_

_**On a slightly lighter note: I am very interested as to what your singing ability is like, mon chéri. I should very much like for you to sing and perform your jumping and flipping one day for me, voluntarily or not.**_

_**You are probably also wondering why I've sent you a red rose bud along with this letter. Unless you've already found what I am about to show you, look under the black ribbon.**_

I picked up the rose and pulled off the black ribbon, now brown and crusted with Christine's dried blood. I did as I was told and found a leather choker necklace with a silver lock pendant and a small chain attached to each end of the leather dangling on it. I looked back at the letter for an explanation.

_**You see the necklace? Wear it. Put it on right now and never take it off. Your chains are mine now. You belong to me until I give you the key I wear around my neck. Until then, I own you, chéri. **_

I scowled as I put on the necklace, feeling his eyes on me, hidden somewhere near and out of sight.

"Are you happy?" I called out, looking at Christine's mirror – which I remembered was a two way one – and scowling. "I put it on!" When no one answered, I shook my head and finished the letter.

_**Do you remember exactly what you said to me when I attempted to kill you that first time? You said you knew what was behind my mask; that you **__knew__** it wasn't as terrible - as horrifying – as I "imagined" it to be. Are you ready to be taken up on your unspoken offer? Prepare for me to force you to love me? I think you are, mon amour. Hopefully I won't have to kidnap you to make you realize exactly how much you need to stay at this theater. Maybe one day you won't see me as a murderer, but as the man deep within. Maybe one day you'll even bring him out and cure me of my ways.**_

_**But I highly doubt that, joli.**_

_**Be aware that I am always around; always seeing what you see and what you think I shouldn't be seeing. Watch yourself, love.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**Monsieur Erik Destler (Seeing as you call me Erik no matter what I do to you, and my efforts seem to be futile in the name department.)**_

_**By the way, I am making no promises about striking you again. I have a short temper, and you are usually the closest thing there is to hit besides a wall. Wouldn't want to injure myself, now would I?**_

I blinked and sat down slowly, looking at the red rosebud in my hand. If I hadn't know exactly what Erik was talking about in this letter, I would've gone into hysterics, also.

"Nora!" Meg rushed into the room. "Christine's going to be okay, she's just a tad shaken up." She cocked her head and looked at the paper in my hand. "What does that letter say?"

"Oh, nothing," I replied breezily. "I'm going to go to our room to sleep. I'll meet up with you in the morning, okay?"

I brushed off her complaints about how that defeated the whole point of the "over" part in sleepover before walking back to our shared room alone, carrying only a rose, a letter, and a weight on my shoulders.

When I got into our room – thankfully not bumping into a certain Buquet – I collapsed onto my bed.

I stared at the rose, and realization washed over me. A deep red rose meant unconscious love, and a rosebud meant beauty. I flushed, realizing he was telling me that he was in love with me and that I was beautiful through a flower. I dropped the flower and slowly walked around the room, looking up and down for any more signs or flowers he could have left. Finding none, I trudged back to my bed – almost disappointed - and gasped. Two roses in full bloom had replaced the red bud where I had left it on Christine's bed. An orange rose and a yellow one. I rushed up to the bed and took hold of the blooms, finding them stripped of thorns. I tried desperately to recall what they meant; and I blushed deeply, remembering exactly what an orange rose meant in the language of flowers.

Orange meant desire.

I stopped and thought. A yellow rose meant friendship though. I racked my brain, trying to find an explanation, and came up with one, directly off of a website I had once seen.

An orange bloom and a yellow bloom together signify passionate thoughts.

I groaned and flopped onto the bed, raising the flowers to above my face and smelling them. I closed my eyes, inhaling their sweet scent as a draft blew throughout the room. When I opened my eyes, the candles had gone out. I hadn't realized exactly how exhausted I was up to that point, and my eyes drooped down. Someone chuckled, and I had a sneaking feeling I knew who it was.

"Why does the creep have to be so damn romantic and caring?" I growled, pulling my feet to my chest, pulling down the covers a bit, and shoving my feet under the blankets. After a few seconds, I remembered to pull the covers over my head.

Before drifting off to sleep, I heard a breeze sweep by my ear and whisper, "Sleep well, Lenora."


	7. Trust Me

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**OHMIGOD I LOVE YOU ALL *tear tear* six reviews, two story alerts and two favorite stories grahhh :3 I'm thanking you all RIGHT NOW. so scroll down and just read if you don't want to feel the loveeeeee.**

**Awesomer: You're amazing. Just getting that out there :D And okay, i won't be jumping off any buildings anytime soon... And i most certaintly will slip in something like "THIS IS OPERA!" even if I have Nora say it...just don't explode on me. there's not enough purell in the world to clean up an exploded person in cyberspace. hahahah poor Nora? she's not so poor in this chapter :P**

**darkraiauthor: thank you ever so much for the favorite story! :DD**

**AcheronNyx: Thank you so much! :) I try my best haha**

**Thatcrazygirlwithglasses: hahah thank you! :))**

**PhantomROX1870: Thank youuu! :D hahah i wouldn't say the best phantom story yet :B ahahah and i tried to add something unusual, like the rose part. it's probably going to have a deeper meaning later :P and Nora's relationships will develop xD and i'm not quite sure yet. i think i'll keep it _The Introduction_ a little while longer to see if it still fits. Thank you for the favorite story and story alert! :D**

**Ravengirl1011: Thank you for the story alert! :) And here comes the update now!**

**Read, review, and enjoy! :)**

**Love,**

**SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine  
AKA: Maura****_

* * *

_ ****_The Introduction_**

**Chapter Seven: Trust Me**

* * *

Nothing much happened after I awakened. I glared at the slightly wilting roses on the foot of my bed. I got dressed, heeding Erik's warning and pulling up a curtain shield before swapping clothes. Yawning, I pulled on my boots and stumbled into the corridor, grabbing a newsboy hat and stuffing my hair into it sloppily. I snatched a random pastry off of a passing tray and scarfed it down - not tasting the fruit or bread – whilst wandering. Practice started a little later today, so I didn't have anywhere to be. I started humming and walking about the halls of the theatre aimlessly, avoiding the bustle of people passing by, too caught up in their lives to notice me. I closed my eyes, letting the sound envelope me, and – of course – ran into someone.

We let out simultaneous "Oof"s and I stepped back, looking at the person's face.

"De Chagny!" I smiled, shoving my hands in my pockets.

He squinted at me for a moment, and then realized who I was.

"Nora! I didn't recognize you in those clothes." He eyed my clothes, almost grinning, but not quite. "They almost suit you. Having fun with your new job?"

I paused before answering, biting the inside of my cheek.

"I love working with the sets," I answered honestly and slowly, choosing my words with care.

"Well," Raoul – DE CHAGNY! – said, smiling, "I'm glad you're having a good time. Is there anything I can get you?" Before I could answer no, his smile faded. "Did anything else happen with that 'Opera Ghost' character? Did he hurt anyone else?"

I bit my bottom lip, unsure if I should answer. De Chagny's eyes stormed over when I didn't reply.

"What did he do to you?" He asked, growling a bit and stepping towards me protectively.

"Nothing, de Chagny, nothing," I hastily reassured him, holding my hands out in front of me. I put one hand on my hat, picking fuzzies off of it and fiddling with the brim. "He merely gave poor Christine a fright."

His eyes unclouded and confusion and sympathy filled them.

"Who's Christine? Is she alright?"

I did a mental facepalm. He doesn't know Christine. They don't meet until… I scrolled through a calendar in my head, looking for opening night for Hannibal. Tonight********************

"Oh, you'll see her tonight" I replied breezily. "And she's fine, just shaken up a tad." When he eyed me suspiciously, I rolled my eyes and said, "Trust me."

He nodded slowly and murmured, "I do." We both blushed a little and I looked away, picking invisible lint off of my vest nervously.

"W-well," Raoul stammered, after a few unbearably awkward moments of silence, "I'd best be off. I need to see my brother inside, he's waiting for me by the entrance," he explained, using far too many hand motions for my taste.

I giggled and place a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes and watching his cheeks go from carnation pink to a fuchsia and feeling his muscles tense.

"I'll see you around," I said, taking my hand off of his broad shoulder –Nora, STOP IMAGINING THINGS – and backing away.

"Goodbye, mademoiselle," he said quietly, turning away and walking towards the door.

I stood in the same spot for a few minutes, sorting out my emotions and thoughts and smiling slightly, remembering Raoul grinning down at me and blushing. I shook my head, turned around, and promptly ran right into someone else's chest.

"Hey," I snapped, looking up into a different man's face, thankfully not one Joseph Buquet. He had laughing silver eyes, a pixie-ish face, and shaggy, medium length hair pulled back in a ponytail the same shade of red-brown as a half-dead scarlet leaf at the end of autumn. That metaphor didn't work out as well as I planned it.

"Watch it," I finished lamely, stepping back once more and straightening myself out. When I looked up, a broad grin had fixed itself upon the man's face, threatening to split it in two. He couldn't have been older than his early twenties, like me.

"Ahh, so you're the female stagehand Buquet's been talking about." I blinked at his British accent and his mention of the ball o' sleaze. He held up his pointer finger. "Wait." His smile faded a bit, concern lighting his eyes. "You're the one who the Opera Ghost almost killed, also!"

I grimaced a bit and nodded. "That's me," I sighed, glancing around, searching for a pair of green eyes I knew were always watching me.

"I'm Adam," the man said, causing my eyes to focus back on him. He offered his hand, and I tentatively shook it, wondering why he was being so exuberant. "What's your name?"

"Lenora. Nora for short." I pried my hand from his iron grip which was lingering a little too long.

"Well Lenora, Nora for short, I'll be seeing you at practice." He gave a sweeping bow and strutted off, every dancer's eyes following him.

I grinned in spite of myself as I wandered off again, remembering Raoul's shoulder and Adam's bow. I managed to wind up in a hallway devoid of people but filled with chairs and tables lining the walls. I looked around and, deciding nothing interested me, shrugged and turned to find my way back to the main corridor. Something moved behind me, and I turned quickly to see what it was. No one was there, but a spot of color and a square had appeared on one of the tabled. I was there in a second, looking at the small piece of parchment and the single marigold. I winced. The marigold was the flower of affection, cruelty, grief, and jealousy. I picked both up and started to read the words on the paper.

_**Slumming, chéri? I can be a…very aggressive personality when it comes to shielding those I care about from others.**_

I groaned and looked at the bloom in my hand. The flower of jealousy rears its rather pretty head. Sighing, I sprinted my way to my post above the stage, shoving the parchment in my pocket and gripping onto the marigold like it was life itself. Once I had scampered up to the creaky platforms, I walked leisurely along the planks and plopped myself onto the ground in crisscross applesauce by my post. Up above me, Adam looked down and saw me. His face broke into a roguish smile and he waved so fiercely I thought his arm was going to fly off. I offered a small smile and a tiny wave as I lifted myself up into a standing position, dropping the marigold onto a chair for my use.

Looking out across the stage and into the boxes, I saw Raoul and a man I could only assume was his brother in Box 7. He waved, and I smiled tiredly and waved back. Glancing into Box 5, a white face caught my eye. I realized half of it was covered in a mask, and a smirk split Erik's face. He pointed to Adam, and then to Raoul, and put his hand in front of his face before melding into the darkness.

I sighed and turned my face up to look at Adam. He was staring at me, but instead of blushing when I looked at him, he winked. I pointed at him, put my hand in front of my face, and mouthed "keep your hand at the level of your eyes".

He rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. I wasn't worried about de Chagny, his brother was with him. Erik wouldn't kill an innocent man just to get to Raoul. Would he?

I sighed as practice started and grabbed the ropes to lower a backdrop.

"It's difficult having two loverboys and a crazy stalker phantom," I grumbled to myself as the theatre lights dimmed.

**BAH. i redid this because, checking back on it, a bunch of stuff had gotten cut out. Bleh stupid bugs.**


	8. Opening Night

**OHMIGOD this is super long. It's almost 3,000 words. GRAHH. I pondered making it two chapters, then decided against it. I think it works better as one :P And now for thank yous! :D**

**PhantomROX1870: I answered your review, but thank you for reviewing! :D**

**RhiScissorhands: Thank you for the story alert, review, and favorite! :DD ^^**

**DirtBikeDamzel: Thank you for the review! ^^ haha i'm trying to make him creepy protective...is that bad? :B and here it is! :D**

**That crazy girl with glasses: Well, almost three guys haha. Raoul now likes her with half of his heart :3 and no...I don't beleive Philippe likes Nora very much ^^; ehe.**

**Awesome: Say what? :D and THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO YOU. Be happy. it happened. CUPCAKE POINTS AHH! *noms* hehe and she does kinda... i love making her devious ^^ and thank you so much! :D**

**ONTO THE STORY!**

**Read, Review, and Enjoy! :)**

**Love,**

**SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine**

**AKA: Maura**

**_The Introduction_**

******Chapter Eight: Opening Night**

I scowled at my reflection. I was wearing a light pink, frilly dress with an über tight bodice and a huge skirt. My hair – thank God – was too short to do anything with besides stick pearl pins in and put in a loose bun. I winced – trying to breathe was extremely difficult in this damned corset – and remembered exactly what I was in a dress for.

* * *

"_You're off tonight?" Raoul asked me as I was sweeping the floor by the staircase to the roof. _

"_Mhmm. Madame Giry told me I had to take off tonight," I replied absentmindedly, searching for a place to hide the pile of dirt I had accumulated. Why would I actually clean when I could hide the evidence? I glanced down and saw Adam below me. A devious thought planted itself into my mind. I smirked and brushed the dirt off of the ledge and onto Adam's head. He coughed and looked up at me, rubbing his eyes while his buddies guffawed. I waved at him mockingly before turning back to Raoul. His brother had appeared, and Raoul was nervously shifting from foot to foot, looking back and forth between us._

"_Nora, this is Philippe, my brother. Philippe, this is Nora, one of the stagehands," Raoul explained, motioning back and forth between us, his eyes darting between our faces._

_The man looked at me with great disdain as I held out my hand for him to shake. He shook it once before letting go; eyeing me. The man was gawky and beaky. He looked like a crane with a miniscule moustache; that's all there is to it._

_He looked me over once or twice and sniffed, an air of haughtiness surrounding him, before walking off downstairs._

"_He seems pleasant," I remarked drily, propping the broom against the back of the staircase._

"_I must apologize for my brother's atrocious behavior," Raoul said, running a hand through his hair and exposing some of his toned chest through his shirt - Nora, we've talked about thi- holycrap he has a six pack!...and cue mental swoon . "He's usually very polite." I pried my eyes from his chest and rolled them as he started, "Back to the subject of you not having work tonight." I took my hat off and combed my fingers through my hair, looking at Raoul expectantly. He swallowed, looking above my head and asked, "Would you like to join me in Box Five to watch __Hannibal__ tonight?"_

_I froze. _Shiz_, I thought, looking at Raoul's vulnerable and hopeful face. _I can't say no without making it seem like I hate him.

"_Raoul," I laughed nervously, twisting my hat in my hands. "Are you sure __you__ want __me__ to sit in __Box Five__ to watch __Christine__ tonight?"_

_He blinked blankly and I did another mental facepalm. He didn't get any of my insinuations. At all. ARGH._

"_Well, yes," he looked down and shuffled his feet. My heart softened as I saw his blushing face. _Damnit,_ I sighed inwardly and smiled. _He's so cute when he blushes.

_I stepped forward and lifted his chin so he'd face me. Once again, his cheeks turned red, and his face became damn adorable. _

"_I'd love to," I smiled, taking my hand away and clasping my hands together behind my back. His chin dropped, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish. I giggled and leaped over the rope railing and onto the floor below me, calling, "See you tonight, de Chagny!"_

_Adrenaline pumping through me, I looked down. At least 200 feet to the ground. I spotted a few ropes I could swing on and, backing up a little, I took a running start off of the ledge, flying down. I grabbed hold of a rope and swung several feet before letting go and backflipping in midair. I grabbed a tray from someone's hands and shoved it under my feet, grinding down a railing. Right before it ended, I grabbed onto a horizontal pole and launched myself off, grasping blindly and managing to grab hold of another rope. I let out a loud "Woo!" before letting go and landing on a platform, causing it to tremble violently. I looked down. Twenty more feet. I grinned. I was right by the front edge of the stage, near the orchestra pit. Adam was standing there, looking incredulously. _

"_This is madness!" He yelled up at me._

_I inwardly screamed with joy. My dream can be fulfilled! I jumped off the platform and landed right in front of Adam, my knees not even buckling with impact. _

"_THIS IS OPERA!" I screamed, kicking him into the orchestra pit. I really hoped someone was there to catch him. Rushing forward and looking down, I saw he had landed on a huge burly dude, who ended up holding him bridal style. I snickered as Adam got dumped on the floor with a satisfying "Urghh" and I scampered off of the stage and skipped to my room. Life complete._

* * *

Of course, once I got to my room, Meg and Christine had heard of my little "date" and dressed me up like an oversized Barbie. Christine was scowling a bit, and I had to reassure her we were seeing it as friends – even though I'm sure Raoul had a different idea. She seemed to accept this, but laced the stays in my corset pretty tight as payback, I suppose. I understand, she's been in love with the guy since she was what? Seven? Six? I fidgeted in my dress –excuse me, DEATH TRAP - as someone knocked on the door, a polite one-two. Grimacing, I hobbled over and opened it. No one was there. I sighed heavily and looked down, seeing – as I had expected – flowers and a note.

"I'm not bending over to pick those up," I said irritably, crossing my arms and waiting for Erik to melt in from the shadows.

He was in front of me, white blossoms and note in hand before I could blink. He stared into my soul, forest eyes smoldering, and tucked both into my left hand, closing it around them.

He leaned in closer and whispered, "You look beautiful, chéri," before melding into the blackness outside my door once again. I took a step out into the hallway, and felt a pair of warm lips on my cheek, lingering long enough for me to melt inside, before flitting away. I didn't bother turning around, I knew he wouldn't be there.

I lifted the flower to my eyes. Jasmine. The flower of sensuality and attachment. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing in the flowers' lovely smell. Letting out a deep breath, I moved into a patch of light opened my eyes to read the letter.

_**Lenora,**_

_**I hope you realized the gravity of what is going to happen tonight, love. And it all depends on your choice. A heavy weight on your shoulders, I suppose. **_

I blinked, and remembered. Tonight was the night he was going to take Christine down to his lair. My shoulders indeed slumped, realizing to get to her room before everyone else, I would have to ditch Raoul early, get changed, rush to Christine's room and find a suitable hiding spot. Groaning, I continued reading.

_**You are aware that you have two choices. To let me take Christine, or go in her place. You had better choose soon, or there will be no time left. Go and enjoy your little evening with de Chagny. Don't think either of you won't get off without harm from **__**that**__**. And your interactions with that Adam man have me getting slightly… Jealous, I suppose. **_

_**By the way, chéri, you look stunning tonight. The dress really suits you in a way your everyday clothes do not. It would be a pleasure to see you in dresses more often.**_

_**I shall see your lovely face tonight, joli.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**Erik**_

"Who's Erik?"

I all but screamed as I turned around to see Raoul dressed to the nines and leaning over my shoulder.

"Someone blew out all of the candles in this hallway. Isn't that ridiculous?" He huffed. "I relit all of them myself." He looked at my collarbone quizzically. "And where did you get that necklace?"

I touched the lock and chain at my neck and smiled nervously.

"Erik is a …friend. And someone made this for me. I wear it everywhere." It was _mostly_ the truth.

"Oh." Raoul looked suspicious, but I took his arm. "You didn't ignore my arm," he said, smiling down at the ground.

I grimaced to myself. "Let's go," I muttered, dragging him along the hallway.

Once we were in Box Five, a comfortable silence fell upon us. The show came on after a few moments, and I heard a sharp intake of breath as Christine came onstage. I glanced over at his face; he was entranced, looking adoringly at Christine's face. I smiled, and turned back to watch the show. When it got to the beginning of "Think of Me", I scooted closer to Raoul.

"De Chagny," I hissed, causing him to start. "I have to go. Don't follow me, I'm fine." He nodded, and, realizing how close we were, flushed. I did too, and he started to lean a little closer, almost trying to kiss me…

"Gotta go, bye!" I sped out of the Box, panting as soon as I got to the staircase. I winced, and snuck into a man's room to get a change of clothes. I came out, refreshed and in pants. I sprinted to Christine's room, pulling the pins out of my hair and tossing them at random passerby. I'm pretty sure I heard someone curse at me… But back to the matter at hand. I kept one of the pins in my hand, ready to pick Christine's lock if need be. I stepped forward, pressing my hand to the doorknob, ready for a challenge. Surprisingly, it gave, and the door opened. I crept in, choosing my hiding spot behind a grouping of pink roses in one corner.

I hunkered down, ready for whatever came. _And now,_ I thought, _I wait._ I peeked through a hole in the rose wall.

It was a while before anyone came in. First, it was Christine and Madame Giry. Blah blah blah, 'He is pleased with you', yaddah yaddah. Next, my ears perked up. Raoul came in, and I smelled the flowers he was carrying over the billion roses already in the room.

"Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?" Raoul said, stepping into the room.

"Raoul," Christine grinned.

Raoul chuckled. "Or of riddles or frocks,"

"Those picnics in the attic."

"Or of chocolates." He smiled and stepped forward, placing his flowers down and walking towards Christine.

"Father playing the violin,"

"As we read to each other dark stories of the North." He crouched before her, balancing on the balls of his feet.

"No - what I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head!" Christine sang out, clear and beautifully, smiling secretly to Raoul.

"The Angel of Music sings songs in my head!" They sang together, leaning towards each other.

I gasped softly. Their harmonies were amazing.

I blanked out for a moment, wondering if my voice would sound as great with Raoul's. I shook my head and snapped back into reality quick enough to hear a door shut and Christine say "No! Raoul, wait!"

I stumbled out from my hiding spot, brushing leaves and petals off of me and pulling out a few thorns.

"Nora?" Christine asked, her face a mix of annoyed, perplexed, and sad.

"Go with Raoul," I said, striding over to her door and bending down, trying the knob. Yup, it was locked. I took the pin and jiggled it in the lock. After a few tries, the door swung open. I stood up and motioned at the door. "Well? I'll handle your angel. Go, Christine!"

She bustled out the door without another question and I closed it behind her, slumping against it, preparing for what was awaiting for me.

All the candles in her room blew out, and a cold wind blew past me. I shuddered and closed my eyes, turning the lock on the door behind me and dropping the pin.

"No regrets," I whispered as I felt a presence appear in front of me.

"Put on a dress," he hissed into my ear, warm breath caressing my face. I felt cloth get shoved into my hands, and I opened my eyes to see I had been pushed behind the folding partition. I quickly changed into the lace frock I had been given. I tied the knot for the robe and stepped out, seeing him lounging in the mirror frame, waiting. He held out his hand, and I took it without hesitation. This seemed to surprise him, as he paused before walking through the frame and into a candlelight hallway.

It was quiet. Much too quiet.

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came." He looked over at me with alarm coloring his face. "That voice which calls to me and speaks my name," I sang softly, looking him in the eyes. "And do I dream again? For now I find the Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind." We exited onto a stairwell and through to a horse.

"Sing once again with me," He replied, his voice as an angel's. He lifted me onto the horse gently. "Our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet." I kicked him for that one. He batted away my foot with ease. "And though you turn from me to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind." We had reached the end of the hallway, and he held out his arm to help me off the horse. I smirked and dismounted myself, getting into the boat alone. He glared at me, but got into the gondola as well, picking up the stick and rowing.

"Those who have seen your face draw back in fear," I murmur-sang, marveling at the architecture in the basement. "I am the mask you wear-"

"It's me they hear."

"Your/my spirit and my/your voice in one, combined. The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your/my mind." We sang together, our voices different and jumbled. Well, I guess we won't be dueting again anytime soon.

"He's there…The Phantom of the Opera." We had reached a lifting gate, and rowed past it.

"Sing for me," He growled.

I looked up at him. "Are you nuts? I'm an alto. The only reason I can sing that much of your damned song is because it was just in my range."

He looked down, shocked at me. I looked over as curtains pulled apart and the portcullis lifted, revealing his lovely home. Then the candles came.

"How the hell are they still lit?" I crowed, leaning over to one side of the boat, examining the lit candles dripping with water with wonder.

"Don't lean!" He yelled, panicking and leaning to the other side of the gondola to balance it out. "You'll tip the boat, putain de Dieu!"

"No need to be mean," I pouted, crossing my arms, staying silent for the rest of the ride.

The gondola docked, and Erik stepped out, me following close behind. He twirled off his cape and left it on the floor. I shivered – this dress was far too thin – and picked it up, wrapping it around me like a blanket.

He looked at me strangely before sighing and walking towards his organ.

"What," I yelled, kicking off the shoes he had given me and hurrying after him, "I don't get the song you had prepared for Christine?"

"You look too ridiculous to sing to," he dismissed, pushing his coattails aside and placing his hands on the keys, a pondering look flitting across his face before he played a haunting tune.

I glanced at myself in a mirror and cocked my head. I didn't look too bad. The cape was billowing around me, but hey. It's too cold to wear just that stupid lace thing. I frowned, and then an idea appeared in my head. I smirked and sat beside him, letting the cape and my robe fall off my shoulders a bit, nudging him. I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder, nuzzling my face into his neck a bit for emphasis.

As expected, he froze, and his fingers hit a sour note.

"That's too bad," I purred, burrowing my face into his collarbone. I brushed my lips against the edge of his chin, letting them stay there for longer than necessary before pulling the cape and robe back onto my shoulders and walking away, making sure to pull the cape tight against me and sway my hips a little more than usual. I paused for a moment, running my hand over the edge of a table before he was there, mirroring my actions behind me and pulling me closer to him.

"What was it that you wanted?" he breathed into my ear, running his hand up and down my arm.

I smirked. Oh, this relationship was going to be dandy.

* * *

Chapter Eight: Opening Night


	9. Past Occurences

Well, this chapter turned out more angsty than I had planned. Lots of crying. Lots of tears. (Really full. Lot of sap.) Anywho, thank you to all who reviewed/ read last chapter :) much appreciated.

**PhantomROX1870: haha thanks! and he doesn't do much to them in this chapter...I'm trying to figure out exactly what his plan is ^^;**

**Awesome: heehee :D you're very welcome ^^ it was so much fun to write haha and I get weird looks for squeeing in public a lot. xD I deliberately made her an alto...I am, and I kinda hate a lot of sopranos... they get all the harmonies -shakes fist at sky- And i believe Raoul was confused as a child and thought Christine's name was Charlotte... But the world may never know! Gahh i wish i got Dr. Who on my TV D; but alas. and yeahh, ahah Erik's severely romantically deprived ;P and I have seen it before, no worries! **

**That crazy girl with glasses: I'd die if he was in love with her too haha three guys hounding her is enough to drive me batty ^^ and thank yaa! :D heehee i love that line too :)**

**Read, Review, and Enjoy! :)**

**Love,**

**SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine**

**AKA: Maura**

_**The Introduction**_

**Chapter Nine: Past Occurences**

I whipped around and put a finger on his nose, a determined look settling on my face

The seductive look on his face melted into annoyance.

"Amazing how you went from immensely attractive to a chipmunk in five seconds," he grumbled, trapping me in the twin bars of steel we call his arms. _Mm, comfy..._NORA STOP IT.

I smiled sweetly and traced the triangle of his nose with my finger, crossing over porcelain to skin and back again. "That's what I'm here for!" He scowled at me, but his eyes were lit up like fireworks. My eyelids started to flutter as he pulled me tighter to him. I looked up at him through my eyelashes, seeing his masked face nearing mine more every second. His lips were a few centimeters from mine when I sighed out a breath I had been holding since he had started moving closer.

He stopped and froze. I opened my eyes, looking up at his face, a mixture of fear and longing stuck on it. We stopped breathing, and something joined in us. For a second, I was in his world. A world where everyone had hated and shunned me. A world where no one had ever shown even a minute sliver of love to me. A world where I was alone, and where all I wanted was to come together with someone who knew what it was like. For a second, I was a broken, despised man in a city of love. For a second, I got him, and in the same second, it felt like he knew me, even though he knew nothing about me.

The connection in us broke as soon as we started to breathe again. I blinked, and he was no longer the scared, alone man he was a moment ago. He was a shell, pushing me away and stalking to his organ, running a hand through his hair. I stumbled backwards, shocked and confused. Did he feel what I just felt…?

I pulled the cape tight to me, reveling in its warmth and comfort, and sat down in a nearby chair. I pulled my knees to my chest and thought about my family for the first time in a few days. Did they know I was missing? Were they looking for me? I winced, seeing my brother's pain stricken face clear in my mind. _Beck wouldn't believe it,_ I thought. _He'd think I met up with someone and got caught up._ The phases of my brother's acceptance of my disappearance shot through my mind, each more painful to see than the last.

_And my parents._ I closed my eyes tightly, trying to rid any thought of them from my mind. They would die if I went missing and was presumed dead. After all the shit that's gone on in my life… Even when I was a baby and some psycho family kidnapped me and said I was theirs, and I believed it until I was six, when the FBI finally caught up with them and took me back to the Mom and Dad I know now.

Tears threatened to break through my eyelids when I thought of what happened six years ago, back when I was fourteen and popular and everything everyone wanted to be. Back when I was still so naïve and I didn't want to believe he was using me, back when I cried futile tears during the worst night of my life, clinging to those dirty sheets like they were life itself as he took my innocence, both figuratively and literally. Back when all my friends left me, because who wants to be near to someone who's been date-raped and thought she was pregnant?

My shoulders shook, and I gasped as the tears started to fall. I pulled my legs tighter to me and put my face in the nook between my knees, sobbing loudly, feeling the same pain and the same fear again, and remembering the doctors and the tests and the worried and disappointed glances from my parents. Feeling my brother's hugs, feeling his shoulders shake in time with mine, so worried for me it broke both of us in two, healing us tighter and stronger than we ever were before.

"Lenora…"

I looked up to see a blurry Erik, reaching out to me slightly. I couldn't see much of him, but I could tell he was carrying a towel and clutching flowers in one hand.

"What," I blubbered, "Have you come to ruin me also? To take my trust in you and then snap me in half?"

He walked forwards more, handing me the cloth. I furiously rubbed away the tear tracks and looked at him with red eyes as he held a group of white, bell-shaped flowers out to me.

"What are these?" I sniffed, holding them gently in one hand and wiping tears from my eyes with the other.

"White heather," Erik murmured, kneeling before me and wiping my eyes with a handkerchief. I stopped sniffing and looked at him, confused. "Protection," he said, moving over to the left arm of the chair and taking my hand in both of his, bringing it to his mouth, softly kissing my knuckles. He looked me in the eyes, and said evenly, "I will protect you against whatever you fear." His thumb started rubbing circles on the back on my hand, and I was shocked into a memory.

* * *

"_Len," the blue haired boy said, pulling me close to him. I giggled and snuggled to his chest, feeling his heart beat at the same pace as mine, ticking, counting the time left in our lives. He took my hand and put it to his face, staring into my soul with his dark gold eyes. His thumb started to make circular motions on my hand as he leaned down and kissed me, slowly and softly, mesmerizing me and slowly pulling me under…_

* * *

Irrationally, I pulled my hand away and stood up, walking towards the exit. "I don't need protection!" I screamed, tripping over an outcropping and stumbling against a wall, bursting into fresh peals of sobbing, burying my face in my arms.

"You don't want my help?" I heard Erik growl from somewhere behind me as I collapsed in a pile onto the floor. "Fine! I won't try to help you!" I heard a door slam behind me, and I pulled myself up the wall, attempting to stand again. I fell once more, feeling the pain of Jared's hand on my face, hearing the jeers in the hallways, knowing that I might be pregnant – that that evil boy's child might be in me – and not wanting to get rid of it…

I fingered the heather, putting one of my fingers into the tiny bloom, almost hearing a bell ring.

"Erik," I whispered, curling into myself, trying to erase the suffering and the angst I had forced myself through just now. "Erik…" I pulled the cape to my face, breathing in soap and leather and darkness. Breathing in Erik. I closed my eyes, letting the silence of the empty room around me cover me like a blanket before slipping into a fitful bout of nightmares one could call sleep.


	10. To Get it Off of One's Chest

**I was distracted all while writing this...So many ideas! Gahh! That's almost worse than having none at all! This is a pretty long chapter...Probably to make up for me going to school in two days T_T I won't be able to write as much until I get used to high school life. I will write, though! I promise you this!**

**Awesome: ANGSTANGSTANGST. terribly sorry, there's more in this chapter. And I KNOW! One song, the altos got harmony, and we were pretty much jeering at the sopranos... ^^; i'm not very proud of that. And I'm not sure. In the book, her father told her stories of a "little Lotte", who I guess is a fable or fairytale character. Maybe it kinda stuck to her because she was like little Lotte? I have no clue. and GASP! you think I don't have it all figured out? SHAME! ;D She hasn't unraveled it quite yet. That comes later ^^ And I hate it when people read over my shoulder. It drives me insane hah. YAY HUGE CAKES! :D And I shall try!**

**AcaciaHatake: Thankee! :D heehee dorkfish ^^ And write it! I'd love to see how someone else would write this! :) Thank you for the favorite author and story alert so much! :D**

**PhantomROX1870: Yeah, I have a feeling she will haha. And so do I. And I DID! :D**

**That crazy girl with glasses: yeah :/ I needed to get her past out there somehow. Thank you, and here it is!**

**DreamerNumber3: Thank you for the story alert! :)**

**Pegs: Thank you! And I don't really hate Christine, I hate the way she acts. if she wasn't so...damsel in distress-y I'm sure I'd like her haha. angstangstangst ahah and thank you once more!**

**Queen Madisyn of Narnia: Thank you for the favorite story and the story alert! :)**

**Read, Review, and Enjoy! :)**

**Love,**

**SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine**

**AKA: Maura**

_**The Introduction**_

**Chapter Ten: To Get it Off of One's Chest**

* * *

"_Mm, Len," Jared purred, kissing my neck softly._

"_Jared," I sighed, running a hand through his faded sapphire hair, feeling its coarse texture give under my fingertips._

"_Ready to die?" a raspy voice hissed. I pulled back from him in shock, and Jared's cunning and beautiful features had dissolved. His skin was stretched tight over his facial bones, giving an eerie look of a dead man. His smile wasn't comforting; in fact, it was downright evil, and fangs protruded obscenely from his lips._

_Before I could scream, he bit me on the neck, tearing my throat to ribbons, and the pain was so much… Too much..._

_

* * *

_

I shot into a sitting position, gasping and holding my throat, making sure it wasn't a bloody mess. It was smooth skin, dimpled only by a tiny scar on my collarbone. I let out a shuddering breath and lied back down, closing my eyes and feeling my surroundings. I was in a bed, with a soft velvet comforter and cool silk sheets.

"You're awake."

I opened my eyes once more, hearing the melodic voice of the man I had pretty much rejected. Turning my head, I saw him hovering by the bedside, hands clasped behind his back and face clean of emotion.

"You screamed bloody murder all night, you know," he reported, taking a step closer to me. "And when you weren't screaming, you were crying." He sat on the side of the round bed as I lifted myself to sit again. He looked me in the eyes, and I marveled at how perfectly the light hit his face, giving him the look of having glowing green crystals for eyes and sharp, beautiful features otherwise.

"What has happened to you, chéri?" he asked quietly, reaching out and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, letting his hand linger there for a few seconds longer than necessary before pulling it away.

"I was taken from my real family when I was born," I started without hesitation. "A man and a woman decided they wanted a child, and so they stole me from my crib while the nurses and my mother weren't looking." I turned away from those burning eyes, hiding my face behind a veil of hair. "I love them with all my heart. They loved me, also. But when I was six, it all came unraveled. The police finally caught up to them and put them in jail, giving me back to my birth parents and brother. I cried for days, begging for the fake parents back. It took a full year of tears and suffering for us all for me to realize that my real parents loved me more than the others did, and that my brother wasn't trying to hurt me when he hugged me."

I paused, desperately sorting out my thoughts, trying to explain the next part. "My mom became famous quite quickly through acting, and we moved place to place. Finally, when I was fourteen, we settled for a while, my mother taking a break from her acting. I became popular, having lots of friends and people that laughed at all my jokes and all of that. I also fell in love with a beautiful boy." I closed my eyes, imagining his lovely face. "Jared was three years older than me and twice as witty and smart. He was kind and funny and loved me. He was my prince." I wrapped my arms around myself tightly.

"Until he stopped being perfect one night. He was drunk, so drunk. Instead of hugging and kissing me softly, he hit me and threw me, touching me and leaving bruises everywhere. That night he raped me. He took everything I had ever loved about him – his faith, his smile, his mind, his gentleness – and threw it away. Jared ignored my screams and pleas and tears, biting me, leaving scars…" I touched the scar on my neck, reminding me of the inexplicable pain of it all.

"The next day he didn't remember anything. Nothing of the night in which he broke me. My brother, Beck, started a fight with him, throwing him to the ground and beating him senseless. They both got sent to jail, but my parents bailed Beck out." I drew in a deep breath, wanting to say so much, but not wanting to reopen old wounds. "Jared stayed in jail for a few days until he was let out, his sentence for disturbing the peace over. When Jared started begging for forgiveness, back to the adorable, smart, virtuous boy I had fallen in love with, I turned him down again and again. And then my friends started leaving. Within two weeks, Jared was still on his knees, and people were jeering and laughing at both of us, calling me a whore, a slut, so many awful names. They called me a pregnant cow, and I started to worry. What if I was p-pregnant?" I choked out, burying my face in my hands and bringing my knees to my chest.

"Was his, his spawn growing inside of me? I couldn't get a straight answer from any of my family. I spent so many nights in my brother's room, crying myself to sleep in his arms." I lifted my head to face Erik, who was intensely studying my face. "I finally went to a doctor, who told me I wasn't with child. But there are still scars, inside and out, from what he did to me, the prince that fell from grace. There was an investigation, and Jared is rotting in a jail cell somewhere. My family moved again, my mom going back into acting, and I haven't gotten close to anyone since. I couldn't…couldn't let what happened happen again. I just –"

Before I knew it, I was in Erik's embrace, muscled yet lanky arms surrounding me with warmth.

"You are not alone, amour."

I buried my face in his chest and wrapped my arms around him, finally letting myself cry.

He rubbed my hair tentatively, smoothing it and pulling me closer to him. "Are you really the girl I tried to kill in the rafters?" he whispered into my hair.

"Yup," I said, almost brightly, pulling back from him a bit and smiling up at him. "I'm a very complex person."

He rolled his eyes and disentangled himself from me, standing and straightening his vest and coat.

"Erik?"

"Yes, mademoiselle?"

"Can I play on your organ?"

His widened eyes shifted over to me, disheveled and red-eyed on his bed, still in a thin lace dress. He looked me up and down a few times before a deer in headlights look appeared upon his face.

"Not that organ, you sick pervert," I growled. "The one with all the pipes. You know, the giant piano?"

He blushed and looked down, running a hand through his hair. "Ah. Right. Yes, you may."

I walked past him and kissed his normal cheek, feeling the skin heat up even more under my lips. I scurried over to the piano on steroids, contemplating what to play as I sat down on the bench, tucking my skirts under me, poising my fingers on the keyboard.

"I'm Still Here" by John Rzeznik. Perfect.

I started playing the intro that came with the sheet music, the sound becoming odd through the pipes.

"I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard, or a moment that's held in your arms," I sang, the words flowing so easily from my lips. "And what do you think you'd ever say? I won't listen anyway. You don't know me, and I'll never be what you want me to be." I remembered the real song, with the drums and the strings flooding into my mind.

"And what do you think you'd understand? I'm girl, no, a woman. You can't take me and throw me away. And how can you learn what's never shown? Yeah, you stand here on your own. They don't know me 'cause I'm not here."

My voice and fingers hurt so wonderfully. I hadn't played or sang for real in forever.

"And I want a moment to be real, want to touch things I don't feel, want to hold on and feel I belong. And how can the world want me to change? They're the ones that stay the same. They don't know me 'cause I'm not here." I could feel Erik's stare at my back, boring two holes into my spine.

"And you see the things they never see, all you wanted - I could be. Now you know me and I'm not afraid. And I want to tell you who I am. Can you help me be who I am? They can't break me as long as I know who I am!"

I wanted an orchestra to play this piece. I needed to hear a piece of the future again.

"And I want a moment to be real, want to touch things I don't feel, want to hold on and feel I belong. And how can the world want me to change, they're the ones that stay the same. They can't see me, but I'm still here.

My voice started cracking and failing me.

"They can't tell me who to be, 'cause I'm not what they see. Yeah, the world is still sleeping while I keep on dreaming for me. And their words are just whispers and lies that I'll never believe!"

I held out the note, my voice managing to stay strong through the measures.

"And I want a moment to be real, want to touch things I don't feel, want to hold on and feel I belong. And how can you say I'll never change? They're the ones that stay the same. I'm the one now, 'cause I'm still here, I'm the one, 'cause I'm still here. I'm still here, I'm still here. I'm still here…"

My voice trailed off echoing in the silence of the cave that was Erik's lair. I took a deep breath and let it go as he started clapping slowly.

"I have never heard music like that before," he murmured, standing beside me and stroking the keys. "You made the words come to life without an audience to sing to. You gave them meaning and purpose." He looked at me, tilting his head and hitting a chord.

"I was terrible," I grinned, shivering as I stood. Erik's overcoat was on my shoulders before I could blink, his subtle scent comforting me as much as the warmth it brought was.

"You made the angels weep," he stated firmly, hugging me from behind, wrapping his arms around my torso and putting his face in my hair.

"Erik?"

"Yes love?" he muttered, sighing a bit.

"Take off your mask."

"Mm, not a chance in hell, joli." He lightly kissed the tip of my ear.

"Fine. I guess I don't have a choice."

I turned around in his arms and whipped the mask off myself.

"Curse you!" he roared, stumbling back and swinging blindly at me with one hand whilst covering his face with his right hand. "You little viper!"

I dodged his hand easily and stood, hand on my hip, waiting for him to come off his little cursing rant.

"Erik!" I finally screamed, waving my hands in the air. "I do not care what is under your mask! Do you think I'm that shallow?"

He turned around, his left eye wild with both hope and loathing. His teeth were bared, the white pearls glinting with the candles' flickers.

"If you even flinch," he growled, stalking towards me, coming so close he towered over my head. "I will not hesitate to hurt you."

He slowly pried his hand away from the right of his face, and I blinked in surprise.

Half of his face was a melting skull, the skin somehow stretched tight and drooping at the same time. It was unnerving, but not disgusting. It was in no way horrifying. There were hollows where people had fat and muscle, and I could see some of his teeth through his cheek. He was in no way hideous.

I reached out and touched his sunken cheek, rubbed his drooping eyelid, and tugged off his black wig to reveal shaggy blonde hair covering all of his head except a good-sized spot above his right eyebrow extending back to behind his ear. I pushed my hand through his hair, feeling its lovely texture under my fingers. The two sides of his face stood in stark contrast. One was perfectly alive and handsome. The other was faded, torn, and bony.

I leaned forward and on my tiptoes, kissing his scarred and thin cheek softly, hearing him make a noise of surprise.

"You're not running from me," he said. "Or afraid of my face."

"You're beautiful. There's nothing to be afraid of."

I opened my mouth to say something more, but I was cut off as he kissed me, grabbing both of my arms and pulling me to him, tears streaking his face and dripping onto my cheeks as I kept my eyes open, shocked, as my heart leaped out of my chest.

We broke apart after a few heavenly moments, both of us dazed. I looked up with wonder at Erik, who looked surprised with himself.

"Thank you," Erik smiled, handsome in the fading candlelight. I nodded, still frozen.

"Come," he said abruptly, putting his mask and wig back on. "The fool who funds my theatre will be missing you."

I put my arms through the sleeves of his jacket before he took my hand and led me back out the way I came, the silence infinitely more comfortable.

When we reached Christine's mirror, he stroked my cheek, skin to skin, and wished me goodbye.

I passed through the mirror quietly, tiptoeing past a sleeping Christine and changing back into my normal clothes, keeping Erik's jacket on my shoulders – smelling it once in a while – and putting Christine's clothes on her chair. I buttoned Erik's jacket; it was falling off of my shoulders and I couldn't risk losing it. I opened Christine's door as quietly as possible, backing out, sighing as it closed without a problem or noise. I turned around, ready to head off to my room, when I ran straight into Madame Giry.

I cursed under my breath and looked at the imposing woman and her staff of doom with loathing.

"Come chéri," she barked, grabbing my arm and dragging me somewhere. "You are lucky it was I that found you, Charmaine, and not the Viscomte."

"Why is that?"

"Because, cher, the Viscomte would ask questions. I already know."

* * *

**Wooop chapter ten, over and out! :) And now that you know Nora can play piano; any songs you'd like her to play? If it fits, I might add it in! :D**


	11. Far Too Right

**IT'S BEEN SO LONG I'M SO SORRY D:**

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* * *

**_The Introduction_**

**Chapter Eleven: Far Too Right**

"Erm…Know _what_ exactly, Madame?" I asked shyly, wincing as her grip on my arm tightened.

She swiveled around and faced me, fire burning in her chocolate eyes.

"That he took you. That you saved Christine. That he loves you in a way that neither you nor I can comprehend. I know enough, Charmaine; I know enough." She faltered, stopping in the dark hallway.

"Chéri, he didn't…He didn't try to…" Mme. Giry's face was pained. "Le fantôme… He didn't attempt…Well…"

"To take my innocence?" I said wryly, trying not to smile. "You underestimate me, Madame Giry; and you take Le Fantôme for something he is not. Believe it or not, he is very kind inside."

"Well," Giry coughed, dragging me once more, "He has never shown that side to me, and it couldn't hurt to ask."

* * *

I was alone with Adam in the rafters, eating the not-so-delicious lunch with him, both of us sitting criss-cross, applesauce on the wooden planks, facing each other.

"So," I asked Adam through a mouthful of roll, "Why did you come to the Opera Populair?"

"Well," he said after swallowing, brushing his hair out of his eyes, "I don't really know. I came here to come here. You?"

I shifted my eyes down, looking at my mottled beans and wondering if I should tell the truth to Adam.

"Yeah, same reason," I replied, letting a fake laugh escape me and pushing my food around my plate with my spoon, having lost my appetite in a rather rapid way.

When I looked up, Adam was staring at me intently. He reached out and confidently untucked my hair from behind my ears, letting it fall into my face. A smile surfaced on his face, and, deep inside of me, something stirred. He scooted closer so our knees were touching.

"So," he said quietly, putting another spoonful of stew into his mouth.

"So…" came my uneasy answer. I looked over his shoulder, but I did not see the familiar swish of a cape or those glowing, green lantern eyes that always draw me back to Erik and reality.

"Nora," Adam whispered, now kneeling, having put his plate aside. He rested his hands on my knees, leaning in and breathing on my face.

I closed my eyes. He smelled so different from Erik… Adam was soft, sooty, and fruity where Erik was musky, dark, and somehow like fire. I inhaled deeply, smelling a faint, lingering trace of paper and ink hiding behind the smell of oranges and ash somewhere in the background.

My breath hitched as our noses brushed together, his gently rubbing against mine in a motion that was sweet and seductive all at once.

I scrambled backwards wildly, flailing my arms and legs in an attempt to get away from his tempting breath, using my feet's motion against the floor to propel me backwards. I hit the wall, back of my head first, and winced a bit. I knocked my plate over, sending food falling down the cracks and crevices. I heard a few people call out angrily at me, but I was too busy staring like a deer in headlights at Adam, who looked hurt and confused to the infinity power.

"Did I do something wrong?" he whispered, sitting back on his heels and running a hand through his bangs. _I'd love to run a hand through that hair…NORA STOP._

"No," I said breathlessly, "No." _Far too right._ I looks above me, and I searched until I found the pair of eyes I was looking for. I stared pleadingly into them, but they only narrowed in menace and disgust and disappeared.

I hung my head and pushed myself up into a standing position, trying to sidestep the spilled and smushed food I'd probably have to clean up sooner rather than later.

"I'm sorry, Adam." I looked into his eyes, the molten silver of them threatening to melt my resolve and send me into his arms, where it felt comfortable and right. "I just…can't."

"I thought you'd be different," he said, setting his jaw and turning away. Something changed about him, I couldn't place what.

"Different from what, Adam?" I stepped closer to him, unfortunately stepping on some of the stew, beans, and potatoes I had dropped from before.

"I know where you're from, Nora. I'm not stupid." He looked me in the eyes again, and I recoiled from the fire and rage they held.

"Adam, what are you talking about? Are you okay?" I attempted to move closer to him, but my willpower dissipated when I saw his face contorting, handsome yet grotesque in the afternoon light.

"I thought you'd be like me! I've been stuck here, and I finally find someone like me!" Adam's voice was bordering on hysterical, and he turned around, leaning on the banister. For a fleeting moment, I worried that he was going to jump over, but I shook all thoughts of that from my mind. Adam wasn't the type to commit suicide, especially over something so trivial.

Was he?

"I know you're from the future, Nora." His low, shaky voice was like a bucket of ice water poured over my head, freezing me where I stood and chilling me to the bone. "I know because I am, too."

* * *

**DUN DUN DUNNN!**


	12. Alcohol is My Only Confidant

**I am seriously so sorry for not updating. **

**Firstly, I would like to say that the school year is almost over and I have like 5 different endings for this planned out. There's probably going to be 5-10 chapters more.**

**Secondly, I would like to say that I've been writing this chapter since _January._ I don't know what happened, but I just got around to finishing it today D: I'm so sorry.**

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**I would tell you what school I go to, because - not to be snobby or anything - it is a really difficult school, and all the work just had me sidetracked D: Thanks for the people still reading this, though :)**

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* * *

_**The Introduction**_

**Chapter Twelve: Alcohol is My Only Confidant**

* * *

"Erik, get me a bottle of bourbon."

Erik blinked. "Are... Are you ordering me around?" He ground his teeth and clenched his fists. "Madam-"

"Erik, get me the goddamn bourbon right now before I grab your goddamned noose and kill you with it." My fists were tight at my sides as I sat in Erik's comfy chair, recalling the… Adam situation. I clenched my eyes shut as I remember slowly backing away from Adam and finally sprinting off in the other direction. I ran down here, for some reason.

Erik broodingly handed me the square bottle and I took a long swig, shaking my head as it burned down my throat, trying to get the dull ache out. Erik stared at me in slight horror and fascination as I downed the rest of the bottle, letting out a sharp breath as the alcohol caught up to me and my vision blurred for a few seconds.

"Nora..." Erik said quietly as I reached for another bottle, this time of gin. I stared at the brown glass for a moment before shrugging and taking a deep drink, enjoying the aftertaste on the back of my tongue. When I finished that and started to reach for another bottle, Erik grabbed my wrist.

"Nora," he murmured, looking at me through his mask.

"Before you say anything, take the damn mask off," I said, irritated and slurring slightly, waving the bottle at him, hearing the alcohol slosh around in it. "I thought I made it unbearably clear that I don't like you with the mask on. I'm not quite sure I like you with it off, but…" I muttered under my breath, breathing into the bottle and seeing the sweating glass cloud.

He took his half-mask off without a question and continued, "Nora, what happened? You came down here two hours ago and just sat here, completely silent until about 5 minutes ago. Something obviously happened with that," his face contorted in anger and disgust, "Stagehand. And I would like to know what."

I laughed bitterly, leaning back in the chair I had been sitting in. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Erik. And I mean that; you really shouldn't ask me, because I'm not near drunk enough to tell you." I nodded and lifted the bottle to my lips to take another drink, but Erik grabbed the bottle and tilted the mouth to the heavens and not my mouth.

"If you don't kill yourself with alcohol poisoning first, will you tell me?" he asked wryly, wrenching the bottle from my hands and dumping most of the bottle into the lake-thing.

"Erik, I would tell you most anything, but I am taking this to my motherfuckin' grave." I could feel my self-control slipping. All the hard liquor I just downed was beginning to set in. I wasn't exactly a lightweight, but I would be passing out or throwing up in a few minutes.

Erik blinked in profound shock. "T-that is not a word for a l-lady!" he stammered, pointing the bottle at me, some of its leftover contents sloshing onto the floor.

"In case you haven't noticed, monsieur fantôme, I'm not exactly a lady," I half sneered and half slurred.

He rubbed his temples. "And now you're drunk. Merde, what did I do to deserve this?"

"You gave me the goddamned lock, Erik!" I grabbed the necklace around my neck and shook the pendant in his face. "My metaphorical chains are yours! Forgive me if you were the only one I could get drunk in front of who wouldn't rape me!"

Erik froze at the word rape. "Merde Nora, I-I didn't mean it like-"

I waved away his stammering and leaned back into his chair, watching the ceiling swirl around me. "I know what you meant. Not many people like babysitting for a drunk 20 year old." I rolled my head so I was facing him. "Erik?"

A sigh, and his unmasked face before me. "Yes, Lenora?"

"Will you tell me a story?"

"...You are an odd drunk." He smirked.

"I want a god damned story or I will regurgitate my drinks on you."

He smiled in a slightly disgusted way. "A story then, for the young woman who seems to think correctly that vomit disgusts me."

He pulled me off the chair and onto the floor with him. We were lying beside each other when he began with "Once upon a time..."

I was asleep before he started the next sentence, and I curled against him, glad to have a person I could trust in this odd place.

There was a strange feeling in my toes. Almost like pins and needles, but slightly more pleasant. As if a cat had fallen asleep at my feet. I wiggled my toes, and I heard a sigh and something heavy shift over me.

Wait. Cats. They're not heavy. My eyes snapped open. Erik didn't have a cat.

I turned my head to see a very asleep Erik curled peacefully against me.

_Goddamnit_. I thought, sitting upright and rubbing my head. _What did I even _do_ last night?_

"Mmm-" Erik yawned, turning onto his other side. "Morning."

I checked myself for clothing, and a wave of relief washed over me when I saw both he and I were fully clothed. My head still pounded, and I remembered the night before.

"Bleh," I whispered, lying back down on the floor and looking for a blanket to cover myself with. When I found none, I frowned. What had I been sleeping with…? I once more looked over at Erik and thought _Godfuckindamnit_.

I debated moving to the bed, but the thought of working my legs made my head pound furiously. I instead decided to cuddle myself up to Erik, lifting up his arm and wrapping it around me like a blanket. _Damn,_ I thought fuzzily, _Le Fantôme is like a freggin space heater._

I let out a sigh and tried to get comfortable, knowing that one of us was going to be awkward in the morning.

* * *

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	13. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

**Another update :) I spent quite a while thinking this chapter through, and even though it's short, I hope you like it ^^**

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**_The Introduction_**

**Chapter 13: Desperate Times, Desperate Measures**

Soft light was filtering through my eyelids. Morning. Was it morning? I couldn't tell. I opened my eyes and saw that I was in the lair. Ok then, that's where the light's coming from, all those magical candles. I still can't get over how THEY ARE STILL LIT AFTER THEY ROSE FROM WATER. I tried to shift but something blocked my movements…**  
**

Oh, right. Erik's arms.

I sighed and attempted to disentangle myself. Erik merely frowned slightly and tightened his grip, muttering some nonsense like "it's not morning yet" and "where do you think you're going".

I slumped down, defeated and almost ready to go back to sleep, but only for a moment. Squirming to where I could whisper into his ear, I said, "Erik, I have to work today."

Mumbles of "they won't kill you for missing a day" met me. I couldn't help but smile a bit.

"Erik, I will be assumed dead and people will come looking for me. You _have_ made attempts on my life before, you know." I sat up slightly, pushing some of my hair out of my face. I hated how it got messy after I slept. It was disgusting.

"Yes but you can explain later and right now you need to lie back down here and fall back asleep," he hissed, squeezing me tighter and dragging me back down next to him once more.

"Erik, you're going to let me go."

"I quite honestly don't think I am, chéri. Now shush, I'm starting to wake up and it's not pleasant." He buried his face in my hair and sighed softly, making me rethink my decision for a second. But only a second.

I started to get pissed. "You don't own me! Let-" I shoved his arm. "Me-" Once more. "Go-!" I was shoved out of his embrace as he rocketed into a standing position and stalked off towards his organ. I stared at him in shock.

_Damnit._ I thought. _I forgot who I was dealing with. The man who throws a hissy fit at the most inopportune times._

"All I wanted was to stay with you, Nora!" He growled, shoving papers out of the way, finding a group and shoving them onto the top of the organ. "But I suppose adoration from one man isn't enough for you." He started to play a darkly enchanting piece, and I sat up, confused and slightly angry. "Oh no, you have to go be fawned over by _de Chagny-_" he slammed the chord that he was playing, "And the _stagehand-_" Another slammed chord. He slammed his fingers down once more on the piano keys before turning around and glaring icily at me.

"Don't bother coming here tonight. You won't be welcomed." He turned back around and continued the piece, hitting the keys a little harder than necessary.

I got up slowly and walked over to the edge of the lake, stepping into one of the canoe-like things. A gondola? Whatever it's called. I pushed off, prepared to go back to the

"Don't bother giving me a flower tonight," I sneered at him as I crossed the portcullis, "I'll have a fire waiting in my room to burn it."

I heard the piano playing stop, but I didn't turn around. Damn Phantom deserved it, after what he said to me. Implying I was a whore.

Still, I couldn't help but wince as he started to play "Think of Me", as if taunting me. "He loves his goddamned _Christine_ better, anyway." I huffed, knowing I was being childish. "Everyone love Christine better," I quietly seethed to myself, "And to Erik I'm just a toy on the side."

But my heart still twinged as the piano slowly faded to silence while I rose back up into the normal world of the Opera Populair, hoping that Erik was lying to himself like I was lying to me.

* * *

_Damn her. Damn her smile, damn her warmth, damn her _body._ Damn her suitors. Damn everything about her! The temptress lured me in and pushed me away, as if I was nothing._

I stopped playing as I realized the thoughts running through my head were entirely false. Nora hadn't pushed me away. "She had just wanted to go to work…." My head fell into my hands and my shoulders slumped. I rubbed the scarred side of my face, trying to recall where she had kissed me on it a few days ago. "And I went and pitched a fit and made her angry," I muttered. "_Merde_," I hissed, dropping my head onto the keys and creating an astoundingly ugly sound. "Nora, why do you make this, this being around you so damn _difficult_?"

I rubbed my temples, trying to figure out a way to apologize.

But wait, why should I apologize? Bile rose in my throat as I thought of her little _encounter_ with that damned stagehand yesterday. She knew what I'd think, and yet she still dined with him alone in that maze of rafters above the stage.

I stopped myself in my tracks. She had been looking for me, though. I had seen that much; her eyes had flitted up and around the topmost platforms. _Then that _Adam_ fellow had decided to take a taste_. I growled, remembering how scared she had looked, as if something special was about to be taken away from her when he leaned in, close enough to hear her breathing… Close enough to feel her heartbeat…

I ground my teeth, but then looked around blankly, realizing I had stood up and walked over to my desk, and was currently holding my noose tightly in my hand. I grinned darkly at the thing, feeling the cord in my hands, knowing how little effort it would take to just let all the life leave the stagehand's eyes…

I shook my head. "Erik can't avenge Nora," I said, slipping back into the terrible habit of speaking in third person as I dropped the coil of rope back onto my desk. "For if Erik does avenge the beauty, she will think it was because I am still angry at her for wanting to leave." I sighed and shuffled over to my wardrobe, taking out fresh clothing and a towel and walking towards my water closet to bathe.

"Erik will avenge Nora in a more peaceful way after he has bathed," I muttered, watching the tub fill with water as I peeled off my clothing. I slipped into the hot water when the bath was full, relishing the feel of the warm water next to my skin. I washed myself slowly, savoring each moment in the water. Walking out of the tub when the water cooled, I slowly toweled off, wondering what exactly I could do to assuage both Nora and my desire to choke the life out of that stagehand's eyes.

As I dressed myself, I had an idea. A wonderful, glorious idea that would get Nora to forgive me and would also discourage _Adam_ from pursuing her once again. I smirked to myself. A win-win situation, if I may.

I moved to put on my mask, but decided instead to start writing a note. Monsieurs Firmin and André would want to know where Christine would be going for the next few days, I was sure.

"You will be mine, Lenora Charmaine," I purred to myself, grinning as I sealed the letter with my trademark skull.

Let the fun begin!

* * *

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	14. Forgiveness is the Best Medicine

**Gooooood morning :) I'm enjoying summer very much, especially since it gives me time to write~~ :D**

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**AKA: Maura**

_**The Introduction**_

**Chapter 14: Forgiveness is the Best Medicine**

"De Chagny, calm down." I rolled my eyes at the Viscomte as he fussed over me, Meg doing the same. I lazily batted away their hands as I yawned, my eyes watering slightly. "Why are we even here, anyway?" I grumbled, looking around at the dress shop we were in. It was filled to the brim with lace and pink, and while I enjoyed the former, the latter held nothing for me.

"We're picking out new clothing for you, silly!" Meg said matter-of-factly, pointing to Christine, who was holding up two white dresses, a contemplative look on her face. "You need new clothes, Nora. What if we go out to dinner one night? All you have are your work clothes!" She seemed appalled at this, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. While I saw nothing wrong with wearing men's clothing out and about, the rest of 19th century Paris did.

"Not true!" I shot back, grimacing when Meg pointed to a pink and fluffy dress. "I have the dress Raoul lent me the first day." I glanced over at him and asked thoughtfully, "Why are you even here? Isn't dress shopping more of a girl thing?"

"You don't want male advice?" He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Pus Christine and I are going out to supper after this." She looked over at him and they smiled warmly at each other. Christine began to walk over, carrying several brightly colored dresses with only a few being neutral colors. I winced as I saw a deep purple dress and was brought back to this morning.

* * *

"Wake up," a voice murmured by my ear. I shivered at the hot breath tickling the side of my face and sat bolt upright, opening my eyes to see a trail of flowers leading to the door. My eyebrows drew together as I picked up the first flower, which was at the foot of my bed. It was grouping of violet-colored blossoms, each barely half the size of my pinkie finger. A hyacinth, I recalled. I racked my brains for its meaning.

"Forgive me," breathed a voice by my left, but when I swiveled in my bed to look, no one was there. I shoved the covers off me and tiptoed to the next flower, a red tulip. I picked it up and looked at both of the flowers together, brightly contrasting each other.

"I'm in love with you," the voice said again. I closed my eyes and breathed out deeply, trying to stop my pounding heart. _I told him I'd burn them,_ I thought, and I marched over to my fireplace, staring at the flowers and not bothering to be quiet. Meg had slept over Christine's last night. When I reached the fireplace, I gasped.

The fire was out and Erik was crouched in its place, his green eyes glowing out of his sockets.

He handed me the third flower, this one a red carnation. I dropped the other two into his hand.

"My heart aches for you, Nora," he said, moving out of the fireplace into a standing position, a few mere inches from me.

This time I couldn't stop my heart from racing.

_Bad Nora! _ The rational part of my brain screamed. _You're mad at him! He called you a whore! Ohmygodhe'sreallyclose…_ My breathing shallowed as he stepped closer, leaving no distance between us.

He held up a fourth flower, letting it tickle my nose, and I compulsively stepped back. _I can _not _let him get that close._ His eyes flashed hurt, but only for a moment. He held out the tiger lily to me, pressing it into my hand and folding my fingers around it.

"I dare you to love me," he smirked, corners of his lips turning up as if he had heard the funniest joke on the planet.

I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining Erik and I at a wedding. Erik and I with a child. I smiled softly at the last mental image: Erik teaching our teenager how to play football.

"I dare you to accept," I said softly, fingering the lily's silky petals and staring at the ground.

He wrapped his arms around me suddenly. "I beg your forgiveness," he murmured into my hair. "I was rash and out of line. I implore you-"

"Oh, shut up," I muttered, blushing and burying my face into his chest. "I accept."

* * *

"Nora? Hello? Are you there?" Meg playfully waved her hand in front of my face and I blinked, snapping out of it.

"Yeah, sorry Meg. Just thinking."

I blushed as Meg winked at me. "Thinking about a boy, Nora?"

"Well…."

"It's that stagehand, isn't it!" I stared at her blankly.

"No, it's not Adam, actually." I looked away and crossed my arms. "I'm avoiding him at the moment, actually."

"Then who is it, Nora?" de Chagny asked, looking slightly intrigued. Christine laughed, sounding like bells.

"Leave her alone, she obviously doesn't want to share." I smiled gratefully at Christine and took one of the red dresses, walking into the dressing room to try it on.

After a few minutes of fussing, I cried, "Christine! Meg! Help me with this, please!"

They came in giggling and laced up the stays as I blushed. "You two don't need to make fun of me because I'm not used to dresses," I whined.

"Oh, shut up and look at yourself," Meg laughed, pointing at the mirror in the corner of the room. I gasped as I saw myself in the mirror.

"I look _horrible_," I gasped, scrunching my nose in disgust at the girl in the mirror. The dress looked absolutely _disgusting_ on me in ways I couldn't even begin to describe. The bust was far too big, for starters, and the hip area was far too small.

"Nora, tailors exist for this reason," Meg cooed, patting down my hair. "You're not very well endowed in the bust area," she giggled.

"Not all of us are, Meg," Christine poked Meg in the stomach. "I suggest you learn that." Christine turned to me. "How about a more casual dress, Nora? I have a nice lace one outside, and a blue one as well.

"Please," I whimpered as Meg undid the laces on the back of the horrible dress.

Christine brought the other dresses in, and they left to let me try them on. These dresses had no uncomfortable stays, and fit me much better.

"I'll get these two," I said, once again in my comfortable _male_ clothing.

"Raoul and Christine went out to supper already," Meg said, "But I'll walk with you back to the theatre."

We paid for the dresses, which were surprisingly inexpensive, and started to walk back the way we came, chatting about the theatre.

"So, who were you talking about before?" Meg asked after we had lapsed into a comfortable silence. "The boy, I mean," she amended as I shot her a questioning glance.

"Oh." I blushed, remembering the rest of this morning.

* * *

"Nora," Erik murmured, rubbing my hair. "Will you come see me tonight after practice? I'd like to show you something."

"A surprise?" I grinned into his chest and wrapped my arms under his. "I certainly will."

After a few moments of this, he pulled back, sighing as he did so.

"I have to go, Nora." He rubbed my cheek with his thumb and lightly kissed my forehead before disappearing.

"Eight o'clock," The voice echoed, "Madame Charmaine."

I smiled to myself and closed my eyes.

"I'll be there, monsieur Fantôme."

* * *

"You have to promise not to tell Christine, Meg," I whispered and stopped walking, looking at the ground.

Meg stopped walking and turned towards me. "Nora, if you don't want me to, I won't." She scampered back over to me. "Who is it that our one and only female stagehand is in love with?"

I hesitated before blurting, "The Phantom."

* * *

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	15. For an Optimist

**I had this all written in a notebook before I realized, "Oh. I have to type this, don't I. /headdesk"**

**it was bad.**

**All my love for Author Alerting:**

**BANEHiwatari**

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**LNDLover24**

**All my love for Story Alerting: **

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**AnimeOtakuBara**

**All my love for reviewing:**

**BANEHiwatari: **Thanks! :D and here it is :)

**: **Thanks! :)) I didn't want Nora to be a Mary-Sue, so no dancer/singer for her :P

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**Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

**Love,**

**SarcasmIsTheBestMedecine**

**AKA: Maura**

_**The Introduction**_

**Chapter 15: For an Optimist...**

Meg stared at me, emotions flitting uncontrollably across her face, ranging from surprise to fear.

"Nora," she said slowly, her face smoothing over to reveal nothing, "Are you being serious?"

"Meg, I wouldn't lie to you," I said quietly, looking down at my boot-clad feet. _Except about where I'm from, who I actually am, and almost everything_, I thought wryly, clicking my heels together.

"Nora, how," She paused, trying to voice her thoughts as we stood on the breezy Parisian street. She wrapped her shawl around her more tightly. "How do you know what the Phantom is even like?"

"He talks to me, Meg," I murmured. "Mostly through flowers. He's very sweet to me."

"He tried to _murder_ you, Nora!" She hissed quietly, grabbing my arm and dragging me down the street to the Opera House. "How can you trust a man after he's attempted to take your life away?"

"I-Meg, I can't tell you. This sound terrible, but I really can't-"

"Are you… Are you with his child?"

"Meg." I laughed without humor. "Do you really take me for that much of a fool? No, I'm not pregnant."

And yet my mind drifted back to the picture it had this morning, of Erik and I with a toddler… A family…

"Nora, I don't trust him," Meg whispered as we stopped outside the doors of the Opera Populair, earning us curious glances from other ballerinas and passersby.

"Meg, I'm sorry." I gently pulled my arm from her grip and looked her in the eyes. "But nothing you can say will change my mind." I paused and looked away before murmuring, "I love him, too."

"Nora." She grabbed my face and turned it towards her. "Just promise me you'll tell me if something goes wrong." A frantic look passed through her eyes. "Please."

I blinked. Meg cared about me. I knew I had friends again, but I didn't actually think…

My face split into a grin and I hugged Meg tightly. "Of course I will." We pulled back and grinned at each other before I said, "Let's get supper before I have to go to Erik. He asked me to visit him at 8."

"Erik is… le fantôme?" Meg smiled curiously as we walked into the theatre and meandered into the dining hall.

"Why of course." We ate in a comfortable silence. I bid Meg goodbye when we had finished and started down into the cellars, taking extreme care not to bump into Adam or Buquet, the slimy assholes.

"Erik?" I called out, smiling as I walked under the portcullis. It was strange that the gondola wasn't at the beginning of the channel, but I didn't mind the water and I knew Erik had clothes I could borrow. I shifted his jacket on my shoulders, hugging it closer to me and trying to smell him on it still. I caught the faint smell of darkness before I stepped onto land, my water-drenched pants getting heavy and bothersome.

"Erik?" I called again, this time confused. He had _invited_ me here. It was unusual for him not to respond after the first time I called his name, but when he knew I was coming? Forget it. Something's wrong.

"Nora?"

I swiveled around to see Christine rising from Erik's armchair. I froze where I was, feeling anger bubble up inside me for no reason at all.

"What are you doing here, Christine?" I tried to keep my tone casual, but my voice came out shaky. I was angry and confused but mostly hurt.

_He brought me down here to tell me he doesn't love me_, My mind raced ahead of me, seeing it all play out. _To tell me that he loves Christine better. WHY is it always the blonde that gets the one the brunette wants?_

She seemed caught off guard by my shakiness. "The Angel of Music gave me a lesson, he invited me down here for tea…"

I took a step back, my mind still reeling, and backed into someone's chest. I turned around to see it was Erik, looking at me with a calculating gaze.

"Erik, what the hell is going on," I muttered, voice still shaky. I didn't want Christine to hear this. She wasn't supposed to know. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Instead of answering me, his gaze fell to my collarbone.

"You still have my jacket," he murmured, fingering the button at the collar.

"Christine," he called, still looking at the collar of his jacket. "I am afraid tea will have to wait."

"Y-yes, teacher," she stammered.

"There are stairs that lead to the left wing of the stage next to the organ," Erik said calmly, pointing to a door most people would have overlooked. Christine walked through it, shooting me a look that clearly said "we have to talk" before starting up the stairs.

_Ugh._

"What was that?" I asked quietly, refusing to look at him.

"Why'd you keep my jacket?" He asked, quieter still, one hand at my waist and one rubbing the fabric of the jacket's sleeve.

"Because it's comfortable!" I said indignantly. When he didn't look up, I added, "andbecauseitsmellslikeyou," under my breath.

With his freakishly good hearing, though, of course he heard me. He smiled gently at me and put the hand that was rubbing the sleeve onto my cheek.

"Nora, do you really care about me?" His face flashed insecurity and danger for a brief moment, and once again, I felt what he felt. I knew how it felt to truly be alone and not think that it was possible for anyone to love you or even want to be around you with an ulterior motive.

There was also the danger, the feeling that at any moment, he would snap and kill someone, anyone, purely because there was nothing stopping him.

"Yes," I whispered, not sure if I did out of fear or honesty. Most likely a mix of both.

"Let me show you the surprise I was talking about." He took my hand and walked me over to a door. He paused and fidgeted for a moment, looking anxiously back and forth from me to the door. He let go of my hand and turned the matte bronze knob of the door, opening it slowly.

"It's not much," he said quickly, before I had even stepped inside. "But next time you fall asleep here, it won't have to be on the floor or my chair…"

"It's wonderful." It was a bedroom, painted a dark red. It was small, but big enough, with a bed pushed into the far corner and a desk to the opposite wall. I entered the room and opened one of the drawers to the desk. Pages upon pages of empty sheet music and paper met my eyes, along with quills, what looked like fountain pens, ink and pencils.

"Open the door to the left." I did as Erik said and gasped when an array of clothing – all seeming to be in my size… - met me.

"Erik," I said, smiling down at my feet, "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

He coughed loudly before saying, "Well… I suppose… When you put it in that context…."

I turned to him and gently pulled off his mask before kissing him.

"I will," I whispered, feeling the heat radiating off of his blushing cheeks.

"Et si la beauté aime la bête," he murmured, pressing his lips against my forehead.

"Je ne parle pas français," I said dryly.

"You don't?"

I shook my head, and felt Erik smile.

"Je veux que vous restiez avec moi por toujours," he dropped his voice to below a whisper, and I could tell he meant to say it to himself and not me, "et je veux vraiment que tu m'aimes retour."

* * *

_I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you._

The only three words running through my mind as Nora and I talked through the night. When the clock on my mantle struck ten, Nora yawned and curled into me, to my surprise. We had been sitting on the loveseat in front of the fire and had just lapsed into a comfortable silence, listening to the flames crackle. She buried her head into my chest.

I froze for a moment, not sure what to do. Push her off of me? No, no; not only would that be rude, but I'm enjoying the feeling of her next to me far too much. I debated internally for a few seconds until she sighed and shifted, murmuring something. I strained my ears and waited. Surely enough, she whispered it again.

"Why aren't you cuddling back?"

Cuddling? Ce que l'enfer est "cuddling"?

She frowned into my shirt and grabbed my arm, wrapping it around her torso and resting my hand on her stomach.

I froze for a second time. Was this… Was this _appropriate_ before an actual relationship? Was this appropriate before _marriage?_

After a few moments I decided I didn't care about appropriateness. My hand was getting tingly from the heat of her midriff. My heart rate increase violently when she shifted again, exposing skin on her stomach that my fingers landed on. _Pure lightning_, was all I could think of to explain the feeling going through my fingers as they touched her skin.

"Je t'aime pus que je pourrai jamais vous montrer," I murmured, reaching my other hand to stroke her hair. "Pus que vous ne serez jamais savoir."

Let my plan commence.


	16. Confrontation

I sucked in a deep breath, feeling my chest fill as I stood on a platform high above the stage, watching the ballerinas twirl about in practice for tonight's show. Alas, my mind couldn't be farther from their swirling skirts. I exhaled slowly, absentmindedly chewing my lip while I hoisted myself up a few platforms to knot two thick cords together.

I hadn't been actively avoiding Adam, per se, more so pretending he didn't exist and walking very quickly away from him whenever I thought he was close. This, it turns out, isn't a fantastic strategy – my work was suffering and I was never in the place where I was supposed to be.

I heard the dance end and rushed over to help another stagehand lower the curtain, wrapping the rope around my arm and attempting to make it as smooth as possible. He nodded to me, and I grunted as he helped me attach the rope to the wall on its anchor.

All the men around me wiped the sweat from their faces and went on their way to get lunch, jumping and sliding their way to the stairs in the wings. I just slumped down, my legs dangling off the platform, wiping my face with the too-long sleeve of my shirt.

"Nora." My head snapped up, eyes widening as I heard it. _Fuck. _"I know you can hear me." I felt footsteps sway the wood beneath me and I squeezed my eyes shut, praying this was a bad dream and that I would wake up in three two no it's too real.

Adam's calloused hand rested on my shoulder, and I cringed. "What, Adam? What do you want?" I whispered, voice wavering. This isn't real, this can't be real.

"I want to go home. And I know you do too. You have a family, don't you?" His voice was too smooth – not like the Adam I was friends with. It was manipulating and trying too hard to be warm. "A mother? A father? Siblings? Friends?"

My mind went to my brother. It had been weeks. Was there a search for me? Did he think I had died?

"I've been here for over a year, Nora. I don't know why I was sent here, but I don't want to stay," he said, voice turning to a low growl. "And I can't do it alone." He bent down, lips level with my ear. I tried to pull away, but his fingers pressed into my shoulder, and pain sparked behind my eyes.

"Let me go," I whispered, gritting my teeth, eyes scanning the darkness for someone, anyone who would notice.

"You have a week to say you'll help," he cooed, digging his fingers further into my shoulder, forcing a muted shriek from my lips. I quickly bit it down, teeth grinding into my bottom lip. "Or I'm afraid you'll be helping no matter what." His grip left my shoulder, and his presence behind me disappeared.

I waited a few moments before letting out a small sob, tears straying their way down my cheeks. _Am I dead to my family? Do they blame themselves for something that didn't even happen? _

I put my head in my hands, trying to force thoughts of my family out. "They're fine," I whispered to no one, pushing the heels of my palms into my eyes. "They're fine."

_What am I going to do?_


End file.
